


Everything begins somewhere

by lunaemoth



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Animal Transformation, Challenge Response, F/M, FYDL Darcyland POC Week, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Tumblr Prompt, Wakanda, elevator meeting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2018-06-08 15:12:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 34,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6860230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunaemoth/pseuds/lunaemoth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>... an elevator is as good a place as any, even to meet a king.</p><p>Or how an elevator meeting can be the prelude to political discussions, cultural discoveries and unexpected adventures in Wakanda.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from the quote _"With the possible exception of the equator, everything begins somewhere."_ credited to C. S. Lewis. 
> 
>  
> 
> NB: I'm french, english isn't my first language and this isn't betaed so you can expect some mistakes. If anything bothers you please send me a nice comment with the correction.
> 
> You can find me on lunaemoth.tumblr.com

“Hold the door please!” Darcy yelled as she hurried along the pristine hallway.

A strong masculine hand did just that, allowing her to step into the elevator before it could close. Darcy barely registered the presence of two women and a man here with her, as she breathed a quick “thank you” to the polite one.

She glanced at the buttons to make sure the ground floor was selected and immediately crouched down, holding her phone between her cheek and her shoulder. “Slow down Jane. Just gimme a second, would ya?” She grumbled as she got a notepad and a pen out of her shoulder bag. “Alright, yeah, I’m ready. Hit me, lady boss,” she sighed, immediately repeating and scribbling down the stream of words coming through the speaker. Once Jane had quieted down, Darcy put everything back in her bag and asked as she stood up: “Remind me why you can’t ask our Wakandan hosts for those, again? (...) Oh, yes, a 24h delay, what an awful wait! What kind of backwater country is this, really? It’s not like in New Mexico we had to wait three days for coffee,” she drawled sarcastically. “I hope you realize that since I have no idea where to find those it’ll probably take several hours anyway,” she added.

The rush having calmed down, Darcy finally shifted to look at the elevator’s other occupants. She froze when she met the eyes of the man by her side. Her eyebrows went up, her eyes widened, and she gaped a little. “Uh… yeah Jane. ASAP. Got it. See ya,” she said mechanically. The call ended, and Darcy put back her phone in her bag without looking away from the King of Wakanda.

The King who was smiling at her, clearly amused.

“Uh,” Darcy said very cleverly, “sorry about that?” She quickly added: “Your Highness.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He tilted his head with curiosity. “Miss… Lewis, right? Doctor Foster’s assistant.”

The King knew her name. Alright... No big deal! Darcy was on first name basis with a Norse God. A king was small fry compared to that… very sexy small fry, true, but that was just the norm nowadays. “Yes. Darcy Lewis. Unpaid assistant, intern, gofer, manager… anything the amazing Jane Foster needs,” Darcy replied distractedly before her manners and political studies kicked in. “Thanks a lot for allowing us to come here. Jane is very excited about getting access to one of the best equipped observatories near the equator.”

“It’s our pleasure to welcome one of the world's leading astrophysicists and learn from her.”

Darcy smiled, remembering that King T’challa had studied physics in Oxford. He was another of those geniuses, great at everything. “Keep that in mind for as long as possible, please. I’m not sure I’ll be able to drag her away from her precious equipment without collateral damage if you cut short our visa unexpectedly… and I probably shouldn’t joke about that.” She raised a finger. “By the way, just to be clear, the backwater country thing was _totally_ a joke! Because I love this place. A little more humid than I’m used to but absolutely _awesome_ otherwise.”

King T’challa was now frankly smiling at her. “I took it as much.”

The elevator chose this moment to reach the ground level. Before Darcy could contemplate leaving first, the two women who had silently stayed at the back until now stepped forward and exited first, looking around and waiting on each side of the door. Bodyguards? Assistants? Or both.

With a polite wave of his hand, the King let her step through first. She murmured her thanks as she did so, wondering if she was supposed to take her leave or wait for him to do so.

“New Mexico was where you met Thor, wasn’t it?” He said, showing that he wasn’t in a hurry to get rid of her. He took the lead, his walk purposely slow to extend their conversation.

“Yes. Puente Antiguo. Only good for watching stars in the desert and meeting Norse gods. I do not recommend. Especially since, last I heard, they used the argument of Thor’s arrival to attract tourists. So now you can’t even have some peace there.”

“It doesn’t seem appealing,” he agreed. “Do you require help to find what you need?” he asked, stopping and turning towards her.

Darcy’s first instinct was to politely deny, but her good sense reminded her that she had no idea whatsoever about where to start her search. They had arrived two days earlier and hadn’t had much opportunity to discover the place. “Actually, if you could point me in the right direction, that would probably be helpful,” she admitted.

“If I may see what you need…”

“Of course!” Mentally kicking herself for not thinking of it, Darcy scrambled to get her notepad and offer it to the King.

He read it with an expert eye before nodding. “You’ll need to stop at a few stores. I’ll get someone to show you around.”

“That’s not necessary,” she said, a bit weird out to get someone to help her (and spy on her, let’s be honest) since she was the one helping the scientist in the first place (if they were trying to steal her unpaid job, there was no way she’ll let it happen! She was fond of her travel privileges! Everyone would be green with jealousy that she got to visit Wakanda — and meet the King).

“It’ll also help with any translation you may need,” he explained patiently.

“Oooh, yes, of course, I didn’t think of that,” she admitted, scratching her cheek sheepishly. The scientists all knew english but most Wakandan didn’t need to. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure, Miss Lewis. I’m sure we’ll meet again.” He left with a polite tilt of his head.

She watched him leave with a dreamy smile. Since she had to wait for her guide, Darcy took her phone and texted to Jane: _“The King is hot.”_ She leaned against the wall and a second later a thought made her wince. _“OMG, we’re probably under watch and I just said their king is hot!!!”_ After more consideration, she shrugged. _“Well, it’s not anything they don’t already know, I guess.”_

_“... What about the pieces?”_

_“Oh, yeah, the King is also cool, polite and a fan of yours. I’m waiting for an assistant, I should have the pieces faster than expected.”_

_“Would you stop getting assistants to assist you, assistant?”_

_“You’re no fun, Jane.”_

_“... You’ll have to tell me more about the King.”_

_“Ah! That’s better ! =D”_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your very enthusiastic response to this fic! 
> 
> Since the first chapter was a drabble at first, this second chapter will give a little more background story. Thanks to _Usedkarma_ 's help, I now have a good plotline and I'm quite inspired. The fun/action parts should start in chapter 4 I think.
> 
> I'll develop Wakanda's culture with the little things I've learned from some wiki but mostly I'll invent things since we know so little. I'll try to be clear on what's canon but if you've any questions, don't hesitate to ask.  
> For this chapter, I use the official language spoken in Civil War by T'challa and his father: it's called Xhosa and I used [this online dictionary](http://www.gononda.com/xhosa/) for it. You'll find the translations at the chapter's end.
> 
> I'd also like to thank _Magick1_ for her help in editing this chapter (and correcting a few mistakes on the previous one).

“Holy moly,” Darcy breathed, heavily leaning against the railing protecting her from certain death in the valley below. She was openly gaping at the gorgeous view over the capital and the lake Turkana. With the sun low over the horizon, the light reflecting on the water and the Wakandan architecture (traditional and futuristic at the same time, it was unique), the panorama was spectacular. Darcy whined and turned to her ‘assistant’. “I can’t believe I can’t take a picture of this! It’s gorgeous! Abeba, are you sure? Not even a little picture with my phone?”

“I’m sorry Miss Lewis, but no, no pictures of any kind,” the solemn woman replied, the pearls on her braids jingling as she shook her head. Abeba was a thirty-something years old diplomatic attaché, and the one tasked with welcoming Jane and Darcy at their arrival in Wakanda. She was responsible of their stay here so, when the King said that Darcy had to be accompanied to go in town, she had been the one having to drop everything else to be her tour guide. She had taken her new role very graciously, although Darcy suspected her to take some vengeful satisfaction in forbidding her to photograph anything.

And now that they were moving to the observatory, Abeba was coming with them, acting as liaison and supervisor (mostly that last one; honestly, Darcy had no idea why, but she was pretty sure that they were considered untrustworthy).

“It’s heartbreaking,” Darcy sighed wistfully, shoulders slumped in defeat.

Abeba, taken aback, pushed her sunglasses higher on her nose and added: “Unless…”

Darcy immediately turned to her and gripped her hands. “Yes?”

“Unless you avoid any kind of building or people. Fauna and flora would be alright.”

“Bless you!” Darcy brandished her Starkphone and went down the stairs she had previously climbed huffing and puffing.

“Miss Lewis?” The poor Abeba didn’t know where she stood with her ward. One moment she was complaining, and the second after she was buzzing around. Dr. Foster was at least more predictable.

“Those flowers, they’re orchids right? I’ve never seen any so big! My mom is going to be so jealous, she has many kinds at home, but they can’t compare,” Darcy explained, crouching down to get the best lighting and angle. “Do they have a name?”

“They are called Blue Panther,” Abeba explained, “at least this would be the translation in your language. They’re local and used in many of our traditions. Your mother won’t find them in your country.”

“Even better, she’ll be green with jealousy,” Darcy concluded cheerfully. She tilted her head to admire the blue flowers and their darker tips, nearly black. “Such a beauty…”

“DARCY!”

The american startled and jumped to her feet, catching her floppy hat before it could fall. “COMING, BOSS!” she shouted towards the summit, hurrying back up the stairs and making an humorous face at Abeba. “End of the break for the carrier!” She grabbed the two bags she had dropped on the ground when she had caught sight of the view and started climbing the last part of the stairs to the top. “Thanks for the photos. It might be silly, but if I don’t take some wherever I go it feels like I lose part of the experience. I can remember so many things I thought forgotten with just a pic.”

Abeba followed, not struggling at all with the heavy box she was carrying. “I see. I apologize then. If I had known, I’d have let you take a picture of the bird you seemed so fond of.”

“It's alright. I’ll make up for it later,” Darcy stated with a shrug despite her heavy breathing. It might be early evening and they were high above sea-level, but it was still extremely hot. She was suffering, despite her shorts and white T-shirt. “I can become a wildlife photographer if I need to! It’s gonna be another line on my long and varied list of credentials, somewhere between ‘sidekick of the love interest of the superhero’ and ‘coffee-fetcher’.”

Darcy arrived at the observatory sweating and panting. The 240° view above most of Wakanda was even more striking from here, but Jane didn’t give her any time to regret that she couldn’t immortalize the event. Caught in the whirlwind, Darcy had things to plug in, data to verify and coffee to fetch.

The night was falling when she managed to catch a break and sit down outside with her own thermos. Or at least that’s what she was planning on, but when she stepped out, she nearly bumped into King T’challa as he arrived. Firm hands held her by the forearms to stop her from stumbling.

“Are you alright?”

“Peachy. I just somehow keep embarrassing myself when you’re around,” she mumbled before straightening. She pulled herself together and said with a sheepish smile: “Good evening, your Highness.”

The King chuckled pleasantly (bless him and his good sense of humor, his bodyguards weren’t so laid back: the stare they gave her was _intense_ ). “Good evening, Miss Lewis. I was hoping I could meet Doctor Foster and be present for the project’s start.”

“You have perfect timing then. Everything is ready, we’re just waiting for the sky’s cooperation.” Giving up on her break, Darcy walked back inside, leading the way up to the control room.

“I take it you got everything you need?”

“Yes, absolutely. Abeba was a great help, especially with the language barrier thing. Oh!” Darcy froze in the middle of the stairs, the King stopping by her side and turning to face her with curiosity. Darcy bowed her head and said carefully: “Molo. Ndiyavuya ukukwazi.”

T’challa’s eyebrows rose, and his lips parted. Even his impassive bodyguards stared at Darcy as if she had performed an unexpected trick. After the initial surprise, T’challa smiled frankly. He greeted her back in his native language and incited her to repeat it again.

Darcy complied, trying to adjust her poor accent on the second word, the most difficult one for her english tongue.

“Better,” he complimented her genuinely.

Darcy grinned, probably like a loony, and bounced on her toes as she climbed up the stairs. “I asked Abeba… well, okay, I _badgered_ her into teaching me a few words.”

“You made me translate everything we came across like a six-years-old learning to read,” the attaché clarified as she appeared at the top of the stairs. She immediately bowed in front of the King and greeted him (much more nicely than Darcy’s attempt) in their language.

“Yes, I did,” Darcy admitted without any shame. “And you’re an A+ interpreter. Enkosi!”

The King, far from being offended by her casualness, laughed softly. “Your enthusiasm for our culture is refreshing. Do you know several languages, Miss Lewis?”

“Spanish and French. I’m not as good as I wish I’d be, mostly from lack of opportunity. Although my French got better after those few months we spent in France and Switzerland,” she explained as they reached the control room.

The subject ended there as, when they entered, they were greeted by the sight of small Jane facing 6-feet-tall Dr. Djomo with her hands on her hips. They were speaking heatedly about calculations.

“Ah, we’re interrupting a scientific debate,” Darcy whispered to the King.

T’challa raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Is that what it is?”

“Yeah, as long as… they don’t do that,” Darcy grumbled before speaking louder: “Oh, guys we talked about that! No invading each other’s personal space, that’s not cool!” She stepped between them, forcing Dr. Djomo to step back, and reached for Jane’s shoulder, turning her towards the door. “Anyway, time for a break, look at who’s visiting us! Jane, this is King T’challa. Your highness, this is Dr. Jane Foster.”

Jane dropped the pen she was using to make her point in her shorts’ pocket and stepped forward to offer her hand. “Thank you for giving us access to your facilities, your Highness. You have the best equipment I’ve ever seen…” She jolted slightly at the nudge Darcy gave her and added: “... and your staff has been a great help.”

Pleased that her boss had listened to her lecture about diplomacy, Darcy settled in the background as the King accepted her courtesies and immediately got into the scientific details (Jane probably wasn’t the first socially stunted scientist that he had met, bless him).

Congratulating herself for a job well done, Darcy enjoyed her cup of coffee while the gibberish was covered and dropped on the chair in front of the weather monitor. Abeba leaned against the table behind her, and Darcy immediately used this opportunity to show her new friend her pinterest. They bonded over food, animals, flowers and superheroes.

“Of course the Black Panther would be your favorite, and I have to agree that he looked really cool,” Darcy said with a shrug, “but we’ll just have to agree to disagree, because I can’t betray my friendship to the Thunder God. The poor guy would be so sad if he wasn't my fav anymore, you know?”

Starting to understand Darcy’s humor, Abeba smiled, amused. “Of course, we couldn’t have that; but one can’t help but wonder where he was during the Sokovia accords talks.”

“On Asgard, of course, where do you want him to be?” Darcy replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. She was used to those kind of questions by now. “It’s not like we needed _another_ superhero to make a mess, right? A Norse god and alien in the middle of that mayhem would have been disastrous.”

“I suppose,” Abeba agreed reluctantly, aware of the King and his bodyguards discreetly paying attention to their discussion. All Wakandans knew who was the Black Panther, but the truth hadn’t been revealed to the rest of the world, thanks to laborious diplomatic negotiations following the King’s arrest in Bucharest. For Darcy and all the other civilians, Black Panther was an anonymous Wakandan superhero following the King’s orders. “Do you think he’d have approved of the accords?”

Darcy looked up from her smartphone and stared at Abeba for several long seconds before answering “No” and going back to her blogging.

“Why?”

“Because his interactions with Midgard’s governments agencies have been disastrous, including but not limited to the time when someone decided to nuke New York. Also, Captain America is kinda his best buddy in the Avengers.”

“I see....”

Darcy glanced at the weather’s monitor and perked up. “Hey, Jane, the sky is clear, and the capital’s lights are off!”

“Excellent!” Jane immediately went to work with the Wakandan scientists, the telescope moving to their will. This was the outcome of two years of work on Jane’s latest theory: that Yggdrasil could be observed from Earth as long as you were looking for the right spectrum. She had thought her research impossible to complete with today’s equipments until she heard of Wakanda’s observatory.

It had taken months for Darcy to go through all the formalities necessary to get here. First she had to contact Wakanda’s embassy (read: badger the embassy, because they weren’t taking her seriously), who asked for the Wakanda Scientific Society to confirm the importance of Jane’s work, but of course the scientists asked for more information than Jane was willing to give them, and they hit a roadblock. After a few weeks of Jane raging about people trying to steal her work and nothing moving, Darcy decided that she was done playing nice: she bypassed the system.

Which meant that the Twitter account she had created for Jane (and that the astrophysicist never used directly, always dictating anything she wanted to say to her intern/assistant), finally was put to good use.

Bless King T’challa for being a modern man with a twitter. Whether he was the one behind it or not, Darcy wasn’t sure, but she tweeted: “ _Wakanda’s observatory is supposed to be the best. Any hope to verify that in person, your Highness #Tchalla?_ ” Four hours later, they received a private message asking about Jane’s project. Two days later, the embassy was contacting _them_ to get everything in order.

Darcy was proud of herself. Dr. Djomo, who was the one wanting to read _everything_ about Jane’s theory before assenting to her research, didn’t seem to approve of her awesomeness. Too bad for him.

It was nearly midnight when the King took his leave. Darcy straightened from her slouch when he announced it, and she eagerly offered to see him out. When he tried to refuse, she mouthed (not very quietly): “Please don’t say no, I need to get out!”

T’challa laughed and nodded, inviting her to step out of the room before him (but after a bodyguard) with a wave of his hand. “I admit I looked up your resume, Miss Lewis, and I can’t help but wonder why a political student would choose an internship with an astrophysicist.”

“I needed six credits to get my degree.”

“Surely there were others opportunities.”

“Yeah,” Darcy admitted with a tilt of her head, “but none of them seemed as nice as watching the stars in the desert.” She shook her head at the King. “Don’t try to find the wise logic in it, there is none. Twenty-one years old me made decisions on the spur-of-the-moment.”

“And your decision to follow Dr Foster for five years, unpaid, despite your complete degree? Was it on impulse?”

“Sure thing. Every single day, I wonder which is better: trying to find a job I won’t like, that will be badly paid and where I won’t be able to speak of the weird things I’ve seen and lived… or following and helping Jane.” She spread her palms up on either side and rose them up and down to imitate a scale.  “I tried to make a pro and con list once, then Jane asked me for some coffee and I forgot it somewhere... under the coffee.” She shrugged.

“Your loyalty is commendable.”

“You think? My mother called it stubbornness, for my father it’s laziness because I don’t want to get a real job, and for Jane I’m probably a freeloader.”

“I’m relatively sure this isn’t Dr. Foster’s opinion. As for your parents... “ He held the door for her as they stepped outside of the observatory, in the pitch black night. “... Some events change us in a way difficult to understand for most.”

Darcy thoughtfully stared at his profile lightened by the lamp behind them. “Yes,” she agreed, “they do.”

She wasn’t surprised anymore when lights slowly turned on around them. From what she had observed, every light had a motion sensor switch in this country. They were big on energy saving and environmentalism.

“You know, I didn’t want to mention it because I was afraid it would seem a little creepy or presumptuous, but if you did some research on me, you might already know about that mh… paper I did about your father?”

T’challa grinned. “I was told it was full of praise.”

“Yeah, I didn’t realize it would embarrass me years later,” she muttered, raising a hand to her forehead in despair. “Just… don’t read it, please?”

“I can’t make that promise. I have asked for a copy, and it’s waiting on my desk as we speak,” T’challa admitted with a smile. “Your embarrassment stirs up my curiosity.”

“You’re cruel,” she joked before shrugging. “Ah, well, it doesn’t say anything that I don’t think anyway. I might have been just a _little_ too emphatic about it so, just in case, if you end up wondering: no, I wasn’t in love with your father, just with his mind… aaaand that sounded better in my head.” She pointed back to the observatory with a thumb over her shoulder. “I’m going to go back now, before too much caffeine and too little sleep embarrass me even more.”

T’challa had stopped a step beneath her and turned to her with a lopsided smile. “You’re very candid.”

“Always. Otherwise what’s the point? I just… _Usually_ , when I’m not sleep-deprived, I manage not to be too embarrassingly honest. Any chance you might forget I ever spoke to you tonight?”

“None.”

“Damn.”

The King of Wakanda _chuckled_ and offered his hand. “It was a pleasure, Miss Lewis. Have a good night, as sleepless as it promises to be.”

Darcy shook his hand in a haze and watched him leave until the lights started to dim around her. Then, she quickly scrambled back upstairs, trying to convince herself that she wasn’t allow to drool over the King, no matter how nice, cool and sexy he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Molo. Ndiyavuya ukukwazi._ \- Hello. Pleased to meet you.  
>  _Enkosi_ \- Thank you


	3. Chapter 3

Peace. Silence. Soft luminosity and a light body.

After several chaotic days and nights, Darcy was enjoying this break with abandon. It had been ages since she could enjoy a good swim. The hotel’s swimming pool was connected to the lake, and its water’s quality was awesome. What’s more, right now, it was empty apart from her. She would gladly shape-shift into a mermaid here and now if anyone gave her the opportunity.

Wondering if she could still do her childhood’s tricks, Darcy tried several synchronized swimming positions, including a crane and a flamingo. Her coach would have probably found them lacking, but it was good enough for her entertainment. She emerged near the pool’s edge with a proud smile.

“Darcy!”

Turning around, Darcy leaned on the edge. “Jane! I can still do i-eep! Your Highness!”

“Good morning, Miss Lewis,” the King said from Jane’s side. They were both a few steps away from the water, fully clothed and staring at her.

“Uh, hello.” Darcy sank down a little deeper in the water and patted her hair to check that no strands were coming out of her bun to embarrass her.

Jane, bless her soul, took charge of the situation: “The King came by to invite us to dinner tonight.” Despite her apparent relaxation, she mouthed behind T’challa’s back: “What are we supposed to say?”

“Oh. Oh!” Darcy’s diplomatic mind woke up, and she scrambled to say: “Of course. With pleasure. We'd be honored to join you tonight… for dinner.” It’s not like you could say no to a King, especially when you were staying graciously in his country and particularly in _his_ hotel (because there was only one in all Wakanda catering to foreigners and of course it belonged to the royalty). Jane had planned to work again tonight, but it would just have to wait.

“I apologize for asking you at the last minute,” T’challa said with a tilt of his head. “I wanted to take advantage of a respite in my schedule to keep up with your discoveries, and I thought I should use the opportunity to introduce you to Wakanda’s gastronomy.”

“That’s alright,” Jane assured, probably placated by the promise of more scientific talks rather than diplomatic pleasantries. “When should we be ready?”

“I’ll come pick you up at seven o’clock if it’s alright with you.”

“Of course,” Jane agreed although she turned to Darcy and widened her eyes in a silent order to hurry the hell up. Darcy had started swimming at four o’clock. It was probably around five by now. That was indeed cause to speed up.

Darcy swam to the ladder to get out of the water (there was no way that she was going to try to lift herself on the edge: somehow she would manage to embarrass herself). Once on firm ground, she was surprised to find T’challa offering her the beach towel she had left on a deckchair. “Enkosi,” she murmured as she wrapped up in the dark blue fabric covered with white stars.

“My pleasure.” The King nodded politely to both of them before leaving. “Ladies.”

They watched him leave until his bodyguards disappeared in the lobby before turning toward each other in panic.

“What are we supposed to wear?!” Jane asked what they both had in mind.

“I have no idea! Did you take a dress?!”

“One _summer_ dress, not an evening gown!”

“Same! Oh by Thor…”

“What’s the worst that could happen if we go in simple dresses? The King doesn’t look like he would care.”

“Maybe not _him,_ but what if everyone else thinks we’re insulting him? You can forget about ever coming back.”

Jane looked horrified at the idea to never have access to the observatory ever again.

Darcy wrapped her towel around her polka dot swimsuit, wedging it under her arm to wave her hands up and down. “Alright, you know what? Let’s not panic. I’m sure my assistant got this. There’s no way she’ll let us embarrass ourselves, that would look bad on her.”

Abeba saved the day, indeed. After a panicky text from Darcy, she sent back a “ _I’ll have what you need in an hour._ ” Exactly one hour later, she appeared at their doors like a true savior with a dress in each hand.

“How did you know our measurements?” Jane asked, puzzled.

“You were scanned at the airport,” Abeba replied, in a very matter of fact way.

“... I’m going to ignore how creepy it is that you have a body-scan of us recorded somewhere, just because you’re saving our skin _and_ you’ve got good taste,” Darcy stated.

Like most countries, Wakanda’s fashion was quite diverse, but from Darcy’s observation, the upper class tended to favor white or off-white (and sometimes shades of yellow) fabrics with colorful embroidered edges, belts or necklines. That’s what Abeba had chosen for them. Jane looked gorgeous in a floor-length white [ dress](http://66.media.tumblr.com/2af7ea266ceda24ba6e4e18b092092f1/tumblr_ms2zpo5MRs1qmt5gzo7_1280.jpg) fitted by a wide golden belt; it showed her arms and shoulders. “This reminds me of Asgard,” she grumbled as Darcy stood behind her and brushed her hair.

“That’s a good comparison to make. You did well on Asgard, right? Just be the same that you were then.”

“Odin hates me. I slapped Loki, and he got killed afterwards. Frigga was the only one who loved me and… she died,” Jane reminded her with a sour look, glaring at the mirror she was sitting in front of. Frigga’s death was still a sensitive memory. “It’s not a really good record, Darcy.”

“Riiight. Well, it’s just the King! You get along fine with him, don’t you?” Darcy tried to soothe her, patting the top of her head.

“Actually,” Abeba interrupted, “the King’s sister will be there too.” The two americans turned to her, wide-eyed. Their supervisor sighed and explained: “Her name is Shuri. She’s the princess of Wakanda, the younger half-sister of the King. She has a Master of Engineering degree from Oxford, is an experienced warrior and handles Wakanda’s security system.”

“How old is she?”

“Thirty-one years old.”

Darcy hummed in understanding. She knew that T’challa was thirty-six years old, and that his mother died in childbirth. His education in Oxford was public knowledge, while the princess’ studies had been kept private. That was interesting to note. She wondered whose choice that was.

After Jane’s hair was as smooth as silk, Darcy pulled on her own [ dress](http://65.media.tumblr.com/440f3c2b7da77d2624bb787c1c7c04d5/tumblr_ms2zpo5MRs1qmt5gzo2_1280.jpg). The asymmetrical cut and the openwork part on her right hip, under a colorful belt, were puzzling her a bit. Abeba ended up smacking her hand away and adjusting everything herself, clicking her tongue in disapproval.

“It fits just fine if you stop touching it. Now let me help you with some make-up, and you’ll be ready to go.”

When the phone rang to inform them that the King was waiting for them in the lobby, it was a relief for Jane and Darcy, whose love for make-up was quite limited.

“Sciences aren’t supposed to be so annoying,” Jane grumbled in the elevator. She was looking in the metal’s reflection to remove her lipstick, convinced that it would just smudge when she was going to eat.

“Just think that it’s training for the day you’ll receive the Nobel prize,” Darcy offered with a comforting pat on the shoulder.

“I’ll just send you on that stage.”

“Ha! As if. You’ll go on stage and strut in front of all your detractors, Jane. You’ll look amazing and they’ll be green from jealousy!” Darcy stated emphatically.

“If you say so.”

“I do. I’m emotionally invested in your success. Now come on, it’s not the Swedish royal family or the Asgardian, but we don’t want to piss off the Wakandan either.”

Arm in arm, they walked in the spacious lobby. The King was sitting on a couch with an unknown woman on his right and his usual bodyguards behind him on each side. One of the ladies in black saw them arrive and warned her boss, who immediately put away his phone and stood up to greet them, smoothing out his black suit as he did. “Doctor Foster, Miss Lewis.” He bowed his head. “You look lovely.”

“Thank you, that’s Abeba’s magic.”

“May I introduce you to my sister, Shuri. Shuri, this is Doctor Jane Foster and her assistant Darcy Lewis.”

The Princess of Wakanda was tall, lean, muscular and beautiful. Like her brother, her hair was short, she was wearing black (Darcy was starting to wonder if it was the royal family’s color, somehow), and they had great smiles.  

“I heard a lot about you these last few days, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Shuri said with an accent very similar to her brother’s.

After shaking hands and sharing greetings, the King showed them the way out. “One of our best restaurants is a few streets away, we thought we might walk there.”

“No problem,” Darcy agreed for them both. Since they had brought only two pair of shoes, they were wearing sandals (flat ones, which didn’t help the height discrepancy going on there) and easily followed the royal siblings in the capital’s streets.

They were in the nicest part of town, the palace being ten minutes away and easily visible thanks to the _really_ big panther statues at its entry. It was a running theme impossible to ignore, and Darcy was glad she had read everything she could on Wakanda, its culture and its cults or else she would have felt pretty stupid. Considering how few things were known, she was still rather puzzled by many details, but she figured that asking too many questions would be frowned upon by such a secretive society.

The restaurant was welcoming and its staff extremely thoughtful, no doubt due to the royal family’s presence. They were led to a covered balcony at the back, away from the other clients, with a beautiful view on the lake.

As they sat down around a round table, their waitress fidgeted a little. “I’m so sorry your Highness, Ladies, but we have only four menus in English and they’re currently used by other clients,” she said with a very heavy accent.

“That’s alright, we’ll translate,” T’challa offered, accepting the Wakandan menu handed to him.

The waitress gratefully left them to choose.

Darcy leaned forward. “You might as well choose for us, your Highness. You offered to introduce us to the local cuisine after all.”

T’challa glanced at her with a lopsided smile and accepted the challenge. “Anything I should avoid?”

“I’m not fond of lamb, veal, pineapple or anything bitter, everything else is fair game.”

“Nothing too spicy or stodgy for me,” Jane asked.

The siblings discussed in their native language before nodding in agreement. As they waited for their food, the discussion naturally started on Jane’s studies.

“Our primary observations are very promising,” she explained, nearly bouncing on her seat. “We have to continue to analyse the data we got, but I’m confident on the results. Your telescope confirmed my theory for now.”

“That’s good to hear, but I’m a little confused,” Shuri admitted. “How does that relate to your previous work on the… Convergence, was it?”

“The Convergence is a cosmic event where the nine realms of Yggdrasil are in alignment, and what we’re looking for right now is the visual confirmation of Yggdrasil. This is the perfect moment in five thousand years to look for it since it should be much more visible with a good alignment,” Jane explained, leaning towards the princess on her left and taking a pen and a notepad from her bag to scribble her explanations.  

Darcy, having already received the lecture (she always got Jane’s first try in explaining her work, it was a good practice for her conferences), smiled at her friend’s enthusiasm and played with her napkin, unfolding its rose shape and making it anew.

T’challa, having probably deduced the explanation on his own, leaned towards Darcy. “I have read your paper on my father.”

Darcy froze while she was folding the corners and turned wide eyes to the King. “Shall I flee in embarrassment right now?”

He chuckled. “Please, don’t. It was actually a very nice read. I was surprised by the quality of your informations and the analysis you made of them. You have a… quite unique take on my father’s politics.”

Darcy huffed and smoothed out her napkin nervously. “Originally, I chose to make a paper about Wakanda because we had to analyse a current political regime which wasn’t a democracy, and I had just watched a documentary mentioning your country in passing. I was intrigued and I thought very naively: oh, Wakanda will be perfect, it’s original so at least the others won’t have the same subject. Then I went to the library, and I was disillusioned. All I found was an interview of your father in a magazine and a chapter on your country in “ _The Greatest Nations of Africa_ ” which was mostly conjectures.” She shook her head. “How was I supposed to write a paper with just that, right? I was going to change the subject, but I still read your father’s interview because, hello curiosity, and then I might have fallen a bit in love with his mind, like I said. So, hell, I decided I was going to do that fuc–freaking paper no matter what, and I badgered a lot of people, including the Wakanda embassy, which was established a few months before only in Washington at the time.” She breathed in, but didn’t manage to stop her monologue. “And that’s how I got premium info and the best grade ever, which I totally deserved because I never spent so much time on a stupid paper. Then, my teacher told me “Darcy, this is publication worthy, can I–” and I said: “Hell no, you’re not getting credits for my work,” so I published it directly on line and that’s how you…”

“Darcy!” Jane exclaimed, patting her forearm repeatedly. “Slow down!”

Darcy shut up and the flush spreading over her face darkened visibly. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

The royal siblings laughed, but when Darcy covered her face in embarrassment, T’challa leaned forward to catch her hand and squeeze it gently. When Darcy glanced at him, he gave her an encouraging smile.

Their meal appeared right after, which Darcy was extremely grateful for since it dispersed any lingering awkwardness. The King had ordered a kind of meze, a selection of several dishes served in small plates to allow them to taste whatever they wished. Jane and Darcy enjoyed it tremendously. The discussion, as slow as it was between mouthfuls, focused on the Wakandan culture.

“Our nation was enriched by our past, but I believe that today’s international context definitely puts an end to our seclusion,” the King explained as their plates slowly emptied. “We can’t afford to ignore the rest of the world anymore.”

“Aliens popping up from nowhere tend to put things in perspective, don’t they?” Darcy said after swallowing a mouthful of spicy chicken.

“Between other things, yes.” He turned to her with a slight tilt of his head. “I couldn’t help but overhear you the other night. You mentioned that Thor would have followed Captain America’s stance on the Sokovia Accords, but I wonder… what’s yours?”

Darcy and Jane exchanged a look. The astrophysicist waved towards her assistant before promptly eating some fish, opting out of the conversation. Darcy drank some water, taking the time to collect her thoughts before speaking. “While we agree that the Avengers should be held responsible for their actions and that they can’t act with impunity wherever they want and however they want, we believe that putting them under the supervision of some opaque panel wasn’t a much better option. SHIELD was supposed to work like that. It didn’t end very well.”

“SHIELD was an american organization. The Sokovian accords created an international one,” Shuri pointed out.

“How is that better?” Darcy shrugged. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I don’t buy the excessive american patriotism and I know how wrong the USA can be, but is the UN much better? I don’t think so. It just adds a new layer of entanglement due to everyone wanting to preserve their own interests. At best, the Avengers will just be useless, grounded by paperwork, at worse there would be abuses.”

“You thought it through,” T’challa noted.

“We like to put the world to rights sometimes, when we’re bored and waiting for the instruments to do their thing,” Darcy joked, smiling at Jane.

“And how would you put it to rights?”

“The Sokovia accords? Well, I think the ‘Gifted’ people,” she said while making quotation marks with her hands, “should police themselves. They’re the most qualified to do it, and they have proven with their little tiff on the German airport that they’re willing to fight each other to defend their beliefs. The Avengers weren’t necessarily _bad_ at their job, they just did it in their own little world while ignoring the rest and thinking they’re doing it for everyone’s good without thinking it through or asking anyone’s opinion. If they had done it with the UN’s cooperation, then the big shots wouldn’t have freaked out about being kept out of the loop.” She twirled her fork. “It should be something like Interpol, you see, an international organization but an independent one. There would be different accords with different states and a representation at the UN, but the UN wouldn’t be _in charge_ of it. No-one should be in charge of telling people who to save and how to do it.”

“Like Interpol? The idea has merit,” the King admitted, thoughtful.

“Not every country is a member of Interpol,” Shuri noted. “We aren’t.”

“True, but the stakes are different,” Darcy replied, meal completely forgotten. “I mean, if North Korea think they can deal with an alien invasion on their own, good for them, but I’m sceptical. As for Wakanda, it’s a good example actually of what I meant by different accords. Wakanda has something that most countries don’t have yet: a superhero.”

“Protector,” Shuri immediately corrected. “Black Panther is an ancestral warrior and the protector of our nation. We don’t use the term superhero.”

“Oh, sorry,” Darcy apologized, embarrassed.

“It’s not offensive,” T’challa assured her. “It’s just not how we view things.”

“I understand.” Darcy nodded and started again: “So, Wakanda has Black Panther and, like you said, he protects you. So you don’t need the Avengers to come and save you from any problem, right? Let’s imagine that the Avengers are the organization I described and that you have an agreement, it could be something like this: if they’ve got information about possible danger in Wakanda, then they send you that info and let Black Panther deal with it, unless he specifically asks for their help. On the contrary, if Black Panther has information relevant to other parts of the worlds, he can send it to the Avengers and offer his help. Everyone is happy and safe, and Wakanda’s sovereignty is respected. However, if something big happens, like – I know I’m always using this example but eh, it fits – an alien invasion, and it happens right over Wakanda. Well, I’m sorry to say that Black Panther might be in over his head and unable to ask for help. Then and only then, with a previous agreement and some kind of protocol, the Avengers could step in to help. Do you see what I mean?”

“I do,” T’challa confirmed. He was staring at her intently. “And I like the idea.”

“Well, it’s copyright free, so don’t hesitate to use it. You’re probably the only one who could do anything with it, anyway.”

“How so?”

“It’s not in anyone’s interest at the UN to put it in place, is it? If not from them, it has to come from the Gifted community, but Captain America and his friends are AWOL, and Iron Man… well… once bitten, twice shy. I’m not sure he’ll be eager to do anything with how it ended for his best friend last time he tried. Can’t say I blame him.” She glanced at Jane before eating the last bite on her fork.

T’challa hummed and let the matter rest.

The conversation went back to their stay’s end and what they had planned for the two weeks still allowed by their visa. The evening was peaceful and all around extremely enjoyable.

 

*

 

“And what was that sauce called again? It was a mix of spices, a little bit sweet, excellent with the chicken,” Darcy was saying to Abeba the following afternoon.

They were on their way to the observatory, after a detour to the Wakanda Scientific Society’s offices to get what Jane needed tonight and fetch some takeout for dinner while they were at it. Abeba was driving an amazing car fueled by a combination of electricity and vegetal oil. It didn’t make much noise and didn’t smell. There was also a computer-aided driving system which braked automatically when an animal suddenly darted on the road before them, disappearing in the jungle as quickly as it came out of it.

“Wow, was that a leopard?” Darcy asked, pulling on her seatbelt. “Are they—” She faltered when something came in through the open window and fell on her lap. “What—” A cloud of gas suddenly came out of what looked like a small grenade. Darcy wobbled and lost consciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Wakandan fashion described here is inspired by the Ethiopian fashion (Google it and you'll find others examples), which is supposed to be a neighboring country. I wanted to do something similar for the food using either Ethiopian or Kenyan dishes but the research was getting too complicated so I cheated and used vague descriptions. :P  
> Shuri is a character from the comics, she's truly T'challa's half-sister but since I never read the comics I invented the rest. 
> 
> Once again, thanks to _Magick1_ for beta-reading this and thank you all for your enthusiastic comments!
> 
> Next chapter will come next week. I'm excited to write it but the best part should be chapter 5. =D


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes some changes of PoV and a lot of talk in Wakanda's language, to make it easier for you Wakandan is in italics.
> 
> Once again, thanks to _Magick1_ for editing most of my mistakes, and a special thanks to _Usedkarma_ since she helped me with the storyline starting in this chapter.

As beautiful a sight as Okoye was, when she caught him at the crack of dawn barely leaving his bed, it was rarely a good sign.

 _“What is it?”_ T’challa asked, walking to his wardrobe in his black boxers.

Okoye opened the doors to the room where he kept the Black Panther habit, and he froze.

_“Abeba Kibaki and Darcy Lewis have been reported missing by Dr. Jane Foster yesterday evening. Their car was found on the road to the observatory, empty, phones and any electronics left inside. Traces of hypnotic gas were detected, supporting the abduction theory.”_

T’challa was already putting on his suit. _“Why wasn’t I informed earlier?”_

 _“Princess Shuri stated, and I agreed with her, that as long as we hadn’t find their location, there was nothing you could do, and that you’d be more useful to the victims by getting your rest while you could,”_ Okoye replied, unblinking, with her hands behind her back.

He sighed but relented to their logic. He trusted them after all. With all his responsibilities as King and Protector of Wakanda, he had to know when to delegate. _“Any leads?”_

 _“Isolationists are our main suspects,”_ she admitted, watching as his face darkened. _“Outside forces aren’t excluded, but the probability that they avoided detection when entering the country is extremely low. Princess Shuri is currently trying to find Miss Lewis’ biological tracker and reduced the search area to the North jungle. However, picking the signal in the forest is…”_

 _“... much harder,”_ T’challa grunted in understanding. _“The Dora Milaje?”_

_“Waiting for your signal, your Majesty.”_

T’challa grabbed his helmet before leaving his rooms in a hurry. He slipped on his gloves and clenched his fists to control his anger. He had to keep a cool head, which wouldn’t happen if he thought too long about his own people going so far against his rule that they would abduct an employee and one of his guests. He had done his best to calm their fears peacefully until now. Threatening people under his responsibility was a grave mistake.

He walked into the palace’s control room. It was buzzing with a quiet and organized activity unusual for such an early hour. Considering the amount of coffee and heavy lids visible around, most operators probably hadn’t left for the night. Some of them were glaring at their screens, probably in frustration that anyone could escape them. Wakanda’s security was tight after all, at least in the capital and around the borders… The jungles? Much less so, and the locals knew it.

T’challa immediately went to his sister’s side. _“Anything new?”_

 _“If you leave now, I think we should have reduced the search area enough to allow you a closer look by the time you’re there,”_ she said, eyes on a monitor showing a map of the North jungle.

 _“Good.”_ He turned to Okoye and gave her a tilt of his head. She left to warn and join the Dora Milaje. _“If the isolationists are the problem, I want you to up the surveillance around the foreigners,”_ he said to his sister. _“If anything more happens we need to know without delay.”_

 _“Understood,”_ Shuri agreed, catching the eye of one of her underlings to put him to work without a word needed. _“You won’t warn them? The Captain would no doubt offer his help.”_

 _“He would,”_ T’challa agreed, _“but he doesn’t know our country and technology like we do. He and his friends would be in our way.”_

Shuri nodded, having no doubt arrived to the same conclusion on her own. She had asked to ensure that they were on the same wavelength.

T’challa glanced up, to the report shown on the walls’ screens. Abeba and Darcy’s ID photos were staring at them. The first was perfectly calm. The second was grinning cheekily: she had been unbothered by the security measures she had to go through to be allowed in Wakanda. He wondered if she would be so unconcerned if she knew that the vaccines she had to get at the embassy included a tracker. Considering it might save her life, maybe she would forgive them.

When he went to leave, T’challa met the eyes of a startled Jane Foster. The astrophysicist was lying down on several chairs, but she slowly stood up. “You’re the Black Panther,” she observed.

T’challa glanced at his sister who shrugged without looking up and explained in their native language: _“She refused to give me some peace unless she was allowed to stay here. She’s loyal and tenacious, this one.”_

It would have normally been a breach of security, but Jane Foster didn’t know a thing about their language, their alphabet or their computers. If she was here, it was mostly for her peace of mind and to stay tuned to any developments.

T’challa turned back to Jane and nodded. “I am. I will find Darcy, Dr. Foster. You have my word.”

Her face hardened, and she frowned severely at him. “You better, or I’ll sic Thor on you and those who took her as soon as he bothers coming back.”

He smiled slightly, amused by the originality of her threat but humbled by her loyalty, and nodded.

“Wait,” she said before he could leave, “you’re going to find her right now? I want to come. She’ll feel safer with a familiar face.”

“A second aircraft will be sent with medical assistance. You can ride in it,” he offered without hesitation.

She nodded, satisfied. “Go and make sure she’s safe then. Since the Sokovia Accords, you’re her favorite after Thor, you know, it would be embarrassing if you disappointed her.”

He smirked at her jibe and left at a small jog.

 

*

 

Darcy woke up with a dry mouth, heavy eyelids and painful wrists. She felt clammy, and some stupid birds wouldn’t stop chirping.

“Don’t move. Pretend to still be asleep,” Abeba murmured. She felt so close that Darcy half-opened an eye just to check… Yes, they were both lying side by side in what looked like a wooden cage in the middle of the jungle. Her wrists were painful because they were tied together by scratchy rope.

Considering the last thing Darcy could remember, that wasn’t a good sign. She pricked up her ears but, aside from the birds and insects, the only thing she could hear was gibberish… no, Wakandan. “What the fuck is going on?” Darcy whispered.

“We’ve been taken by isolationists, enemies of the King’s politics,” Abeba explained. “They want Wakanda to stay secluded and hate foreigners.”

“Seriously?” Darcy hissed before taking a few seconds to think about it. That made sense. There were always people opposed to change, especially after centuries of the same politic. There were bound to be people afraid, distrustful or despising strangers. “Okay, I get why they took me then, but why you? Is it because you work for the King?”

“Probably more because I’m married to a foreigner,” Abeba replied.

“You are?” Darcy asked, surprised. “But you showed us a picture of your husband, he is…” She stopped immediately when she realized how stupid her thought process was.

Abeba understood her nonetheless. “Black? It’s not about the color of your skin, although yours makes you a more obvious target,” she admitted. “My husband was born in Ethiopia. I met him during my first diplomatic mission, and we petitioned the King for him to get the Wakandan nationality. He’s not the first, but the isolationists worry that this will become more common. They think it will lead us to losing our identity.” She shifted slightly and muttered to herself what sounded like insults in her native language.

Voices came closer. They both froze, pretending to be asleep despite the weird worrying noises around them.

For Darcy, who couldn’t understand a thing, this seemed to last hours before they were finally left alone. She slowly opened an eye, just in time to see Abeba’s worried face. “What’s wrong?” She asked. “What did you hear?”

Abeba glanced at her, frowning. “Some of them didn’t agree with keeping me here. They’re going to let me go.”

“That’s great!” Darcy whispered excitedly before understanding what was left unsaid. “What about me?” When her friend stayed quiet, she insisted: “Abeba, whatever it is, just tell me. I went through the whole ‘imminent death experience’ twice, now! I’m not going to scream and cry in despair, I promise. Just… rip the band-aid off or something.”

“They said you’ll be dead by sunset.”

“Oh.” Well, damn. She wasn’t going to lie, that was still hard to swallow. At least in New Mexico and London, she wasn’t the target, just… collateral damage. “And, uh… what time of the day is it anyway?”

“It’s morning. We were unconscious for the night, I think.”

That made sense. Darcy was thirsty and hungry, but apparently not for long anymore. “Okay then,” she breathed. She was fine, she was cool, she wasn’t going to panic… She just wanted to cry a little, maybe...

“Darcy,” Abeba whispered urgently as footsteps came closer, “the Black Panther will come. He’ll save you.”

Darcy had more faith in Thor to be honest, but even that was wishful thinking. Still, she didn’t want to make her friend feel bad, so she joked: “If you see him, tell him to hurry the hell up then.”

The cage’s door opened, and Abeba was dragged away.

 

*

 

T’challa was sitting in the copilot seat of the jet as they flew over the jungle. Search was slow-going, the dense vegetation keeping their sensors short-ranged.

The communicator in his helmet beeped. He put it on to take the call. _“What is it?”_

 _“Are you on private mode?”_ Shuri asked in his ear.

T’challa shut the helmet hermetically around his neck. _“I am now.”_

_“The isolationists have claimed the abductions.”_

_“I see,”_ he growled lowly.

_“But that’s not all. It seems a strange coincidence to me that Darcy Lewis was taken when Jane Foster would be much more valuable. At least she would be if they want to use her to obtain concessions from you. Unless...”_

T’challa sighed, not in the mood for his sister’s games. _“What?”_

_“Unless I wasn’t the only one to notice your interest for her.”_

He shook his head and looked at the horizon. The sun was going to reach his peak soon. _“Shuri…”_

_“You haven’t shown so much interest in a woman in years, brother. If she was Wakandan, I’d be expecting you to court her.”_

_“But that’s the point, isn’t it? She isn’t Wakandan. I know my priorities,”_ T’challa replied, unmoved. He was perfectly self-aware, and he had never deluded himself about having a relationship with her from the moment he realized he was quite fond of Darcy. If they had met during his time in Oxford (but she was too young, wasn’t she?) or even before his father died, then, maybe, they could have had a fling, as long as she was conscious of its inevitable end, but now that he was King… It was simply out of the question.

 _“I know that you do,”_ Shuri agreed with a slight snort (for some reason, she was quite cynical about what she called his ‘self-sacrifice habit’ or ‘holier-than-thou attitude’), _“but what about any others? Not everyone else has faith in your complete dedication to our country, T’challa. If anyone thinks she has a chance to get your attention...”_

T’challa clenched his fists.

_“... I don’t think they will stop at abducting her. In fact, they recognized being behind her abduction… but they didn’t add any demands of any sort for her release, while they specified that Abeba would be freed soon.”_

T’challa swore vehemently and hit the wall in frustration. Shuri stayed blissfully quiet while he calmed down, but he could feel the Dora Milaje’s curiosity despite their discretion. _“I was careful for this exact reason,”_ he hissed between his teeth.

 _“You were,”_ she agreed. _“You were in fact so above reproach that the only time someone could have had any doubts was at the restaurant, two days ago, in which case I’ll find the one who is behind this, T’challa. You have my word. You should focus on getting her out of here.”_

 _“I will,”_ he whispered. _“Bast and Sekhmet willing, I will.”_

 

A few minutes after the call’s end, and T’challa subsequent explanation of the situation to the Dora Milaje, the jet’s sensors warned them of moving targets on the ground.

 _“Two humans,”_ Okoye observed.

 _“Send the drone,”_ T’challa ordered as the jet hovered above the canopy on stealth mode.

An image appeared on a side screen as soon as the robot was launched. It was led through the leaves and branches until it reached the ground level and managed to catch sight of a man leading someone else roughly through the tropical ferns.

_“Is that…”_

_“Yes, it’s Abeba Kibaki,”_ Okoye confirmed. _“The sensors don’t detect anyone else around. It looks like she’s being lead away from something.”_

T’challa hummed his agreement and watched more attentively. _“He’s armed. Let’s make this quick and flawless, Midnight Angels.”_

The four women part of the Dora Milaje’s strike-force roared their agreement and got ready to jump. As soon as the hatch was open, they fall on the branches below, as silent and light as the monkeys inhabiting this jungle. T’challa could have followed, but he was too heavy, he would have been noticed sooner. As such, he watched the screen. His highly trained soldiers dropped on their unsuspecting target, freeing his victim, getting her safely away, disarming him and knocking him out in a few seconds.

In the end, getting him and Abeba up in the jet was the hardest and longest part of the operation.

As soon as Abeba was safely with them and recognized the Black Panther, she dropped on her knees. _“Your Majesty! They’re going to kill Darcy by nightfall!”_

 _“Nightfall?”_ Okoye repeated. _“That gives us time.”_

T’challa unclenched his fists and focused on Okoye’s logic before nodding his head and asking Abeba: _“First of all, are you hurt? Then… tell us everything you remember.”_

 

*

 

The isolationists were poorly organized and trained. They also panicked as soon as they saw the Black Panther in their midst, praying to Bast and Sekhmet for their lives. They weren’t difficult to disarm and, once it was done, T’challa let the Dora Milaje deal with rounding them up and tieing them up.

Okoye was calling him towards a rudimentary wooden cage. He caught sight of the body lying motionless on the ground inside. Fear gripped his heart as he removed his helmet .

 _“She’s alive,”_ Okoye said, reading his face, _“but she will be dead by nightfall… Her breath smells like heart-shaped herb.”_

Wide-eyed, T’challa watched Darcy wan face. She was already sweating and unconscious. Soon, she’d have seizures until her heart gave way. While the heart-shaped herb strengthened enhanced people once ingested, it was deadly poisonous for any humans; and there were no antidote. Why would there be? It was rare, only growing around the Vibranium mines, and it was sacred. Its use was controlled.

“The medics?” He asked in a low growl.

“On their way.”

He clenched his jaw, nodded and turned away. There was nothing he could do. Despite all his power, all his knowledge, there was nothing he could do to right a wrong done by his subjects, after they purposefully violated the laws of Wakanda and the codes of the Panther Cult. Nothing… except giving justice, for he was the King and the Black Panther. He was law, and he had been defied.

Step after step, as he walked to the rebels, he breathed deeply to control his anger. Months ago, he had chosen to rise above his thirst for vengeance. Vengeance wasn’t the answer, blind execution wasn’t the answer. Justice had to be balanced. Sometimes, he had to remind himself of that. It meant that he was in no state to pass judgement. Later, he would do so. But now, he wanted answers.

He put back on his helmet and stopped in front of the quivering men who shamed them all. _“You abducted one of my guests and one of our own, held them against their will, poisoned one of them with a sacred herb whose possession and utilisation is forbidden, and hereby sentenced her to death. Your wrongs are many, my patience is shortened. I suggest you confess promptly.”_ His voice was low and deep, a warning and a threat.

 _“The foreigners are unworthy! They don’t have their place here! You let the cockroaches in, but if she dies because of the sacred herb, it just proves it! It’s Bast’s will!”_ One of them dared to shout before cowering under the nearest Dora Milaje’s glare.

 _“Fool,”_ she hissed at him. _“Shall we try the heart-shaped herb on you? Watch your tongue in front of the King and representative of Bast!”_

 _“There is no man more unworthy than the ignoramus who pretends himself better than those willing to learn, there is no greater fault than having been taught the ways of our nation and to spit on them by pretending to defend them,”_ T’challa hissed. _“The foreigner was my guest and as such the guest of Wakanda and of Bast! You dishonored us all!”_

_“I’m stopping you from falling in the clutches of the outlanders and their false beliefs!”_

_“I’m Black Panther!”_ T’challa roared. _“I’m the Hand of Bast! Do you think me so weak and foolish that I do not know my own duty and mind?!”_ The forest all around stayed quiet after his outburst, and the rebels kept their eyes down. T’challa slowly breathed in. With a move of his chin, he ordered the Dora Milaje to take over.

The prisoners were cowed enough and disorganized enough that they gave several clues about their contacts and operations during the interrogation. Once he was satisfied with what they learned, T’challa gave the order to bring them to the capital. He went back to the cage, where he could see the medical team trying their best under Okoye, Abeba and Jane’s watchful stare.

“Any news?” he asked after removing his helmet once again to see Darcy and her sickly complexion.

The doctor turned to him and shook her head. “There isn’t much we can do, your Majesty…”

“There must be something!” Jane protested. She was pulling nervously on the bulletproof vest she had been forced to wear and turned, accusing, toward T’challa. “You promised me to save her!”

He didn’t. He knew better, no matter how much he wished to save her. He had promised to find her, and he did. He wasn’t going to point it out callously however.

“There is nothing we can do, Dr. Foster,” Abeba whispered, unable to look away from the friend she had been with a few hours earlier. Her voice and demeanor were resigned and dejected. “Only Bast could hope to save someone from the heart-shaped herb.”

T’challa jolted and stared wide-eyed at her.

The attention took Abeba away from her morbid contemplation, and she blinked at him. _“Your Majesty?”_

“You’re right,” he whispered, “only Bast can.”

Okoye, knowing him so well, understood what he was thinking and frowned. _“Are you sure it’s wise?”_

“Bast will be the judge of it,” he decided, moving forward. The medical team got out of his way as he crouched beside Darcy.

“What is it?” Jane asked, hopeful.

“We’re going to Bast’s Temple,” T’challa announced with renewed purpose, lifting Darcy in his arms. “A crime has been committed in her name today. We shall see if she chooses to acknowledge the victim.” May the Panther Goddess hear him. She was their last hope.

 

*

 

The temple was in the middle of the rainforest, even further from where Darcy was held, back against the east mountains that bordered the country. There were no clearing big enough around. The jet had to land on the flat roof of the temple.

T’challa walked down the ramp with his arms full of a shaking Darcy. The seizures hadn’t started yet, but she had a much too high fever now.

A lone man was patiently waiting for him with his hands crossed behind his back. Although the priest of Bast was secluded here, he still had communications, and they had warned him of their arrival.

 _“Uncle,”_ T’challa greeted him with a respectful nod.

 _“My dear nephew,”_ S’Yan said while patting his shoulder and looking down at Darcy. _“Poor girl. She doesn’t have much longer, does she? Heart-shaped herb poisoning is an ugly death. I trust you’ll see the culprits appropriately punished for their blasphemy?”_

 _“I will,”_ T’challa stated firmly.

S’Yan nodded slowly before pointing towards the stairs leading into the sanctuary. _“Let’s see what Bast’s decision will be.”_

T’challa glanced at him from the corner of his eyes, hesitating as he followed.

Despite his discretion, his uncle had always been perceptive. _“What troubles your mind, T’challa?”_

_“Bringing her here… It was the right choice, wasn’t it?”_

S’Yan hummed. _“Do not let the closed-minded cloud your judgement, T’challa. You’re the Black Panther and your heart is in the right place. What does it say?”_

 _“Bast protects the innocents and fights for justice,”_ T’challa recited his childhood lessons. _“She recognizes all those of good heart and wise mind regardless of their origins and status.”_

_“And is this woman all that you described?”_

_“Yes.”_  

_“Then you have your answer.”_

They stopped in the inner sanctuary lit by white fluorescent crystals, two levels below, where the temple was dug into the mountain. Statues of panthers and cats of all sizes surrounded an altar where T’challa put down Darcy, careful to not hurt her even when she shivered against the cold stone.

He knelt in front of the altar and bowed his head. “ _Bast, Panther Goddess, hear me. I, T’challa, Black Panther, hereby request your help. This foreigner, Darcy Lewis, was poisoned by your followers under false accusations, using your sacred herb. She’s innocent of any crimes, but I was unable to keep her safe and sound. Bast, hear me. I beg you of doing what I couldn’t. Save her.”_ He stayed quiet, praying silently, humble and hopeful, keeping his heart and mind opened for the goddess to judge. He didn’t try to hide his infatuation for Darcy. Bast would be more upset by the dissimulation than by his innocent affection. There was no shame in it. He didn’t let it cloud his judgement. And yet, here they were. Had he been negligent? If he was, it was his mistake, not Darcy’s. She didn’t deserve such a fate. She was smart, vibrant and open-minded. He could see a promising future for her. For her life to be cut short by the foolishness of some… it was unjust.

He prayed until he was sure to have poured all his heart in his request. Then, slowly, he bowed again, stood up and walked away to reach his uncle’s side.

 _“Miracles don’t happen in front of mortals’ eyes, not even our own,”_ S’Yan observed. _“We’ll come back by sunset. Then you’ll have your answer… one way or another…”_

 

Waiting was one of the hardest thing he had to do, and it wasn’t made easier by Jane’s frantic pacing or her earlier rant about letting her dying best friend alone – for such a short woman she was extremely forceful.

He had been unable to focus for long on his meditation like his uncle and Okoye were currently doing. He was now watching the sun slowly going down while Abeba was distracting Dr. Foster. Lost in his thoughts, he was sitting on the low railing, his legs scraping the wall, torn between hope and realism.

When the sun disappeared behind the trees, T’challa jumped on his feet and disappeared below before anyone else could react. He reached the sanctuary quickly and stared at the altar with bated breath.

…

His uncle’s footsteps echoed in the empty room. He stopped by his side with a hum before calmly observing: _“Well, the dead don’t walk away.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be fuuun! :D
> 
> Things to know about Wakanda: _Uncle S'Yan_ is canon but, like sister Shuri, I'm doing my own thing with him since I didn't read the comics. The _Midnight Angels_ are canon too (I'd have never called them that, it sounds so... cheesy for a strike team! Let's say that it sounds better in Wakandan!). _Okoye_ is also a Dora Milaje from the comics (the most rational one from what I found) but here it's the name I chose to give to the bad ass lady that you know for her famous "Move or you will be moved" in Civil War because of course she needed to be in this story. She was one of the unnamed bodyguards following T'challa in the previous chapters.  
>  And the _heart-shaped herb_ is also canon. I only took some small liberties on this subject.
> 
> I'd like to apologize for not replying to your comments on last chapter. I'm so bad at replying, urgh. I read them all and loved them to bits but then I wait too long before reacting and it seems pointless afterwards to bother you with a late answer. I'm bad at this but I love you a lot for commenting, your enthusiasm is heart-warming and reading your ideas/thoughts on the chapters and what's coming next is inspiring. <3  
> If you ever want a reply from me no matter what, you can ever come talk to me on http://lunaemoth.tumblr.com because I try to be more responsive there, or just tell me in your comment to stop overthinking this and I'll kick myself for you. :P


	5. Chapter 5

Darcy has a shitty eyesight. She was farsighted since the age of six, and she was used to it. Contact lenses were a great thing, but she was also fine with wearing glasses: after twenty years, she was used to it. Glasses were essential for sleepless nights for example, while contact lenses were the best in rainy weather, like in London or even Wakanda’s humid climate. Also, they were great for swimming, even if she had to throw them out afterwards (at least this way she could see the bottom of the pool before hitting it… don’t laugh, that hurt!)

Wait… where was she going with this train of thought, again?

Oh yeah! Darcy has a shitty eyesight. She was prouder of her other senses, like her sense of smell! This place smelled like wet stone, dust and some kind of bitter plant… Or was that a taste? She had a pretty good one too usually, but her mouth really tasted weird right now. Actually, the last thing she remembered was that same bitter taste…

But, whatever, that wasn’t the point.

… What was her point, again?

Oh yeah! Hearing! She has pretty good hearing, too. She loved music, but she was really careful about not blowing her eardrums off because premature deafness didn’t sound cool at all. One of her uncles was hard of hearing, and that was such a…

Damn, she was doing it again. Her attention span was so short, it was crazy: she was rambling on one subject then another as soon as it came to mind…

Somehow, it reminded her of her old cat, Luna (don’t judge, Sailor Moon was great, alright!), who always had her head in the clouds…

Wait. Focus, damn it!

Hearing! Yes, that’s it, she was hearing something!

Something else than the wind through the corridors or the waterdrops falling from crevices, that is… Good lord, this place was creepy. Where was she? Absolutely no idea. It was quite dark, with only some weird crystals embedded in the walls giving some white ambient light, just enough to know this was a maze of stone walls. All around it just looked old… and boring… and she was lost there, in this unknown, weird place, after waking up alone in a huge room with a very hard and cold stone bed.

Oh! That’s why she was following the distant noise! Yes, absolutely, that’s why she was walking toward it. Because they were _saying_ things, intelligible things.

“What do you mean ‘gone’?! She was dying! She can’t be gone!” Someone was screaming, and that voice sounded kinda familiar.

“It seems dying she isn’t anymore,” was the reply coming from someone as old as this place, or at least that’s what he sounded like; maybe if he calmed down on the Yoda-like imitation…

“We’ll wait, Dr. Foster, she can’t be far or at least not for long. The exits leading to the jungle are closed.” Oooh, this one was familiar too, and it gave her the urge to purr, somehow. The voice was _that_ smooth.

Wait, Foster! Yes, of course! Jane! Damn it, mind, focus!

Darcy walked a little faster and came out of an hallway in a room more brightly lit by torches. There were five people here, but Darcy ignored most of them in favor of the smartest one around: her Jane! When in doubt, find your Jane, she was going to get you out of trouble, somehow… more or less intact.

Darcy might feel a little weird, and her mind was a little fuzzy, but she knew that her place was at Jane’s side. Pleased to have found her way out of here, she purred and leaned against her friend.

 

*

 

“No sudden move, Dr. Foster,” T’challa advised hastily.

“Yes, thank you,” Jane replied frostily. “I gathered that much!” She looked down, wide-eyed, at the black panther who was rubbing itself against her cargo pants, and tried not to cringe too obviously. Although she wasn’t as fond as Darcy of animals, she had visited zoos in the past, and she had seen panthers. She never thought about meeting one this close however, and she would have been fine without, actually, even if it looked incredibly affectionate right now...  “It doesn’t seem wild, does it?”  

“A messenger of Bast?” T’challa asked his uncle. Now that the panther didn’t seem aggressive, he didn’t look particularly concerned or surprised to see one (in comparison, Abeba was definitely in awe). He was probably more used to those animals’ company than she.

The priest hummed, crossed his arms and stared at the animal who had barged in their conversation. “If it was a messenger of Bast, it would have come to you or I,” he noted, “and its attitude is… quite peculiar.”

“Yes, it is,” Jane agreed readily. She wasn’t necessarily a great fan of pets in the first place; to have one (potentially deadly) reaching past her knees and winding around her legs was intimidating.

“Dr. Foster, since we are looking for you friend, maybe you should try calling her,” S’Yan suggested with a glint of something in his dark eyes.

He was very hard to read, but Jane sent him a nonplussed glare. “What’s the link between a panther rubbing itself against me and Darcy?” A small noise got her to look down. She found herself staring into the feline’s placid eyes as it stared at her… questioningly. Jane’s breath stayed stuck in her throat as a doubt suddenly seized her. “Darcy?” She repeated.

The panther made that same small noise again, like a patient “Yes?”, and tilted its head in a way reminding her clearly of Darcy.

“Oh my God,” Jane breathed. She crouched down, suddenly forgetting her reluctance to get any nearer to that powerful jaw and its fangs. “Darcy, nod twice if it’s you.”

The panther looked at her like she was _crazy_ but slowly indulged her, somehow managing to convey her contempt and patience in one sigh.

“By Odin’s eyepatch,” Jane swore, wide-eyed. She looked up at the Wakandans who were staring with just a little less surprise. “You transformed my intern into a panther!” Jane accused the King, incredulous.

Darcy The Panther looked stricken by lightning. She _whined_ before looking down at her paws, at her back and then at her tail, turning round to catch it. After much too long for someone as smart as Darcy, she stopped, whined some more and rolled on her back to stare at Jane in a plea for help.

“Well,” S’Yan said to his nephew, “you asked for her to be saved. You didn’t specify _how_.”

For once, the King of Wakanda didn’t look much more amused than Jane by his uncle’s aloofness. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

By his side, Okoye crossed her hands behind her back and nonchalantly commented to Abeba: “It seems you’ll have to transfer Dr. Foster and Miss Lewis’s belongings to the palace.”

 

*

 

The palace was _cool_. It was big, colorful, with golden ornaments and some fancy things in what must be vibranium. There were black panthers (the animal, not the superhero, no, sorry, protector) statues at every corner among lush vegetation. What’s more, the architecture was so smart: when the temperatures were too hot, people could stay inside for some fresh air. There were inner gardens, small air ducts at ground level and a complex system of waterfalls falling down glass walls to cool the air without wasteful and polluting air conditioning.

Darcy had already noticed early in her trip in Wakanda that their climate control was very different than any occidental one, but the palace was even better with all its plants and fountains. She loved it to bits. This was her new heaven, and she wasn’t leaving ever again.

Purring in delight, she stretched on _her_ pillow, happily drowsing and ignoring the rest of the world around her.

The crew from Bast’s temple and Shuri were staring at her with varied feelings. They were in T’challa’s office and, after she had explored the room, Darcy had commandeered the couch near the waterfall without a care in the world. When she got bored, she played with the water, splashing some on her paws or snout, and it seemed to entertain her enough to allow her to go back to sleep.

“Are you sure this isn’t detrimental to her?” Jane asked, frowning worriedly. “She seems to regress to her... inner feline soul to me. Last night, she lounged on my bed and refused to move away like an overbearing cat.” They had arrived late last night and had all left for their own bed except for Darcy who snubbed the rooms prepared for her and followed Jane everywhere. Jane didn’t mind much because she was worried for her friend but sharing her bed was pushing it a little. She wasn’t a pet person damn it!

“It’s not necessarily a bad thing,” S’Yan noted from the screen connecting him to them. As a priest, he had refused to leave the temple, choosing to remain there to look for answers by his goddess’ side. “Do not worry yourself, Dr. Foster. I doubt that any harm will befall her in this sacred form. Bast protects her. Maybe this worriless state is her way to do so.”

“That being so, how long will she stay like this? Don’t misunderstand me, I’m grateful for… Bast’s help, but this is a little…” Jane made a face, trying to be diplomatic since Darcy couldn’t do it for her. Of all the things she had seen since Thor came into her life, this was something quite different than her usual adventures, but at least visiting Asgard had taught her to be respectful of everyone’s culture. “Well… what am I supposed to say to her family if they call?” She raised her hands in consternation. “Oh, sorry, your daughter can’t talk to you, we didn’t invent a panther translator yet?”

T’challa smiled and shook his head. “We’ll cross this bridge when we get to it. I doubt that this will be indefinite. For now, let’s take things in stride.”

“At least, in this form, she isn’t in any danger,” Shuri observed. She was unabashedly fascinated by the human turned panther. “No one will ever harm a panther in Wakanda… maybe this was Bast’s goal.”

“We can only speculate,” S’Yan replied, “but I agree with T’challa, we shall wait for Bast to reveal her purpose.”

“Alright then, I should go to the observatory, with all this I didn’t finish my calculations. Can you look after her, your Highness?” Jane asked T’challa, glancing to Darcy from the corner of her eyes, hoping she wasn’t going to choose this moment to wake up from her nap. They had all reached an unanimous agreement that Darcy should stay in the palace, but she was as stubborn as a puppy when it came to following Jane everywhere.

“Of course, Dr. Foster. Abeba will arrange for your security detail,” T’challa looked at the attaché who nodded.

Abeba had stayed with her husband this morning to comfort him and recover from her ordeal, but she had insisted to come back to work quickly. She was taking her responsibilities as Darcy and Jane’s liaison very seriously.

“Alright,” Jane sighed. “I hope you’ll find all those responsible for this.”

“We’re on it,” Shuri assured.

 

*

 

This evening, T’challa came back from the control room tired and angry. In addition to the prisoners caught the previous day, they had three suspects in custody: Dr. Djomo, a cook from the restaurant and a handyman from the hotel. Dr. Djomo had been apprehended by Dr. Foster’s security detail after he had commented on Darcy’s absence with a level of knowledge exceeding what was public knowledge. He had remained tight-lipped since, but that might have something to do with his wounded pride: Jane Foster had given him a good slap.

The suspects were being questioned and, even if they might not be all guilty of helping for the abduction, they all showed a level of discontent for his international politic that was wearing on T’challa.

It had also taken too much time. Night had fallen some minutes ago. He had left Darcy alone for too long. He glanced at the couch distractedly before realizing that the panther was nowhere to be seen. The meal left for her on the ground had been eaten (Trying to understand what they should give her to eat had been fun. When Okoye had tried raw meat, Darcy had glared at her fiercely. Finally they gave her the same thing they were eating themselves, although they drew the line at giving her cake, which made her sulk).

“Darcy?” He called. When no sound came in reply, he went to the door leading to his living quarters. It was half-open. “Darcy?” He called again, walking into his bedroom.

“Here,” said a small voice.

He froze in the middle of the spacious room.

Darcy was sitting on his four-poster bed, in human form, wrapped in his sheets. She glanced around without meeting his eyes. “Uh, sorry... Is this your room? It’s just… I woke up on the couch completely naked. I went to find the first thing I could, and by the way those are really nice sheets. They are so soooft.” She rubbed the fabric against her cheeks before a hint of red colored them, and she cleared her throat. “But if you could lend me some clothes, I would appreciate it.”

“Of course,” he replied without thinking, going to his walk-in closet. “It’s good to see you as yourself, Miss Lewis. How are you feeling?”

“Uh… a little confused? I mean, I had this dream which might not be a dream where I was a panther, believe it or not… Also, you were _the_ Black Panther and someone made me swallow some very nasty herb, then I felt horrible. It wasn’t a very good dream to be honest... except for the part with you, I mean.”

He came back with a black dressing gown lined with gold and laid it out in front of Darcy. “It’s all true, I’m afraid.”

She stared at him, wide-eyed. “Even the part about you being the Black Panther?”

“Yes.” He looked at her in the eyes to assess her reaction and was amused to find her in awe. Only then did he turned around to give her some privacy as she dressed.

“Damn,” she whispered, “this is crazy. I feel like I totally missed some part of the story here.”

“You did,” he confirmed before bringing her up to speed. With his arms crossed, he leaned against the wooden post holding up the black mosquito net as he related the events of the past two days.

“Wait, what?” She interrupted after his explanation on the reasons of her abduction. “Are you seriously telling me that people think we were… like… flirting?”

A short glance told him she was dressed, just sitting flabbergasted, and he turned slowly with a smirk. “Weren’t you?” When she blushed beat-red and stuttered, he chuckled. “I apologize, I was teasing you.”

She huffed and crossed her arms. Considering their size difference, the dressing gown  was falling on her feet and hands, which didn’t make her seem as serious as she probably wished. “I know better.”

“What do you mean?”

“My best friend is in love with an extraterrestrial prince and, let me tell you, it’s as complicated as a sitcom. Now, you may be an earthling, but it’s still an headache in the making. So, nope, my heart is forbidden from falling from you.”

“Forbidden? Really?” His smile widened as she nodded very seriously. “Does this ban really work?”

She paused, made a face and shook her head forlornly. “Nope! But I have a good brain, it’s more obedient than my heart, so no flirting with royalty for me!”

“For this, I do not know whether to thank you or not,” he admitted very truthfully. Maybe too truthful, he had to come back on track.  “Either way, some people didn’t need our opinion to think whatever they wanted.”

“People always think whatever they want as long as it fits with their own narrow view of the world,” Darcy sighed before shrugging. “There is nothing much we can do about it. I’m just thankful you saved me.”

“You’re very forgiving. Your friend seems angrier with me.”

Darcy chuckled. “That’s just how Jane is. She’ll feel better as soon as she sees I’m fine, then she’ll focus on her work, and it’ll be as if nothing ever happened.”

“I do not blame her.”

She stood up and stared at him sternly. “You’re not responsible for what happened.”

“They are my people.”

“And they are humans, no more perfect than any others. You can’t take the responsibility of all their crimes. That’s too much, even for an enhanced man.” She poked at his chest, tilted her head and glanced at the width of his shoulders. “About that, I’m quite displeased I can’t remember clearly what you look like in that Black Panther suit of yours…”

T’challa laughed. “Who knows? Another opportunity may arise. For now, it’s getting late, and I’m sure you’ll be happy to have some time for yourself in an human capacity. Come, I’ll show you your room.”

“Does this room have my clothes? And laptop? And phone? Especially the two last ones?”

He chuckled. “Yes.”

“Bless you.”

 

*

 

The following morning, T’challa was woken up a little after sunrise. He knew instantly that he wasn’t alone, but he didn’t feel in danger either. There was something heavy on the bed with him… something breathing… leaning over him. He opened his eyes and found himself face to face to a panther.

Once the animal noticed he was awake (it was clearly waiting for this), it roared in his face, although at a very considerate sound level. It was all that T’challa needed to understand the situation.

With a sigh, he rubbed his face and said: “I agree Darcy, this is bothersome.” It was clearly too much to hope that the situation would have resolved itself so easily. “Did you wake up this way?”

She whined and let herself fall flat on his chest, which stole his breath away. After a few seconds to recover, he patted her head to comfort her. The fur was soft and soothing. The gesture was more familiar than he would have ever done would she be human, but communicating was harder when one of them couldn’t speak. When she leaned into the touch, it was as much a sign of trust than a need for comfort.

“It will be alright,” he promised, “we’ll find a way.”

The look Darcy gave him in answer conveyed her doubts with a stunning clarity.

“It seems to me that you’re more lucid than yesterday, aren’t you?”

She nodded slightly and moved from her position on top of him to lay by his side.

“There is that at least,” he noted as he moved on his side to be facing her.

She showed him her fangs and tried to gnaw lightly on his hand in answer.

He huffed, amused. “Yes, of course it’s not enough, but try looking at the bright side of it: you have transformed into a noble animal, powerful and fast, revered by my people. Surely it must have some advantages. Since we don’t know how long it will last, you might as well enjoy the best parts of this situation, don’t you think?”

Darcy seemed to contemplate his words for a few seconds before staring deliberately at him, or rather at his bare chest. If a panther could smirk, that’s definitely what she did.

T’challa laughed heartily.

  
An hour later, the palace’s employees stopped everything to watch the King doing his morning jog with a panther running around him in circles, like an enthusiastic puppy teasing him to run quicker. When T’challa finally indulged her and put on a sprint to chase her, the panther roared in delight and dashed between the trees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as usual to _Magick1_ and _Usedkarma_ for their help!
> 
> I hope you liked this chapter even if most of you were expecting something different! I certainly had fun writing it. :P


	6. Chapter 6

“Bast is being mysterious,” S’Yan said. “Her answers to my prayers were unclear. From what I gathered, the transformations are linked to the sun.” (Yes, thank you, Darcy had noticed that all on her own.) “And Miss Lewis’ fate seems tightly linked to yours, T’challa. I saw a panther lying by your feet as you sit on the throne. It’s a good omen. Otherwise, I can’t tell you much yet. I’ll continue my meditations and inform you as soon as I have any news.”

In other words: just deal with being a panther during daylight Darcy, it won’t change anytime soon! Great! It had been this way for six days now, enough for Darcy to get some habits and even a schedule.

First, wake up at sunrise in panther form. On stealth mode, avoid all the Dora Milaje to slip inside T’challa’s room and wait for him to wake up while entertaining herself (let’s be honest, T’challa always woke up quickly, though it might have something to do with her rolling in his very nice and expensive sheets). Once the King awakens, ogle him a little, just because, then run with him for his jogging. Bast be praised, Darcy had never done so much sports of her own volition ever before, but to be honest it just felt so _easy_ in this form that it would have been a shame for her not to make the most of it. After all, who else can brag about outrunning Black Panther, really?

After that, the King had to do his duties, and it was time for Darcy to go find Jane and eat breakfast with her. What was great about living in the palace (apart from, like, everything!) was that servants brought them breakfast in their rooms so Darcy just needed to nudge Jane in the table’s direction for her to eat (which was good because, you know, the “can’t talk” problem limited her options). They usually spent time together until after lunch.

During the afternoons, Jane left for the observatory or the Wakanda Scientific Society’s offices, and T’challa was still busy. That wasn’t a problem; it was time for Darcy’s nap anyway. Where she spent it depended on her mood but, once she woke up, it’s the “avoid the Dora Milaje” game once again to sneak into T’challa’s office. Sometimes he’s there, sometimes he’s not. The couch was _hers_ anyway, and there was always someone to bring her dinner there.

Depending on T’challa’s schedule, he might be there or not when it’s sunset and she transforms back.

 

One evening, he wasn’t. She stood up on her two naked feet and slipped her arms in the sleeves of a bathrobe looking more like a kimono. It was black and gold satin and, since the day she had to go inside T’challa’s bedroom to find something to cover herself, it was always waiting for her on a corner of the couch.

Securing the belt around her waist, she walked swiftly towards the plate brought by a servant a few minutes earlier. It was left on T’challa’s desk next to a tea set, which meant it was specifically for him, probably because he hadn’t had time to eat properly this evening. It mattered little to Darcy because this plate was covered… with cakes!

Squeezing her hands together, she nearly squealed in delight as she admired all the arabic little pastries. Some were covered with honey, others with powdered sugar. Some looked like they had fruits inside, others were with almonds, pistachios or different nuts… There was so much choice that she didn’t know what to try first!

As she went for her first treat, an arm went around her waist and lift her, giving her a fright. “Eek!”

“Are you stealing my food?” A soft voice whispered in her ear.

“Oh my god,” she breathed, holding on to his arm as he put her down a step away from the food. “You scared me! How can you be so quiet?!”

T’challa laughed and squeezed her gently. “It’s useful to catch little thieves.”

“Oh, come on, T’challa! There are so many! You can share some with me, right?” She pleaded, turning her best puppy eyes on him as he released her. “I didn’t have any kind of sugar for days because of your ‘panther diet’!” she whined.

“You had fruits,” he pointed out, “and anything else would be bad for your teeth. Unless you want me to brush your teeth when you’re a panther? That would be comical.”

“I’m human right now! Please, share!” She tugged on his tunic, begging like a child and unabashedly acting like one when she tried to reach for the cakes behind his back.

T’challa laughed at her and captured her arms to keep her away from any sweets. “I don’t think you’re well-behaved enough to deserve any treats.”

“Lies and slanders! I’m an angel!” She protested, wide-eyed, trying to be a picture of innocence.

“Oh, really? Is that why you repeatedly intrude in my rooms?”

“It’s not my fault if your bodyguards don’t do their job very well,” Darcy replied. “Really, I’m doing you all a favor by showing you there’s a security flaw.”

T’challa smirked at her. “You may have surprised them the first time, _ikatana_ , but they never fail twice. I ordered them to let you pass.”

Darcy gaped at him before promptly recovering and lifting her chin. “Well, then, I’m hardly at fault, am I? I’m not intruding since you let me in!”

T’challa chuckled and shook his head fondly before grabbing her by the waist again. This time he lifted her to drop her on the couch despite her protests.

“What’s up with grabbing me tonight?” She grumbled, adjusting her bathrobe around her.

Her friend had gone back to his desk and taken both the pastries plate and the tea set. He put them down on the coffee table in front of the couch and sat beside Darcy. She was waiting impatiently, eyeing the pastries but knowing without being told to that if she reached for one without being invited to, she wouldn’t get any.

T’challa served them both a cup of tea and, once she accepted the cup, lift the plate in front of her with a smirk. Darcy reached for one with pistachios and put it whole in her mouth before he could change his mind, which forced her to chew it like a chipmunk.

He laughed and shook his head once again before eating more slowly and gracefully.

Silence settled between them as they enjoyed the food and each other’s company. The only words they exchanged were Darcy commenting about the pastries and T’challa advising her to try one or another.

Time passed until Darcy was drowsy from eating too much. She glanced at T’challa with half-opened eyelids. “Are you alright?”

He smiled at her, just a soft lift of the corner of his lips, but one so tender that it left her more dazzled than any others. “I am now. Thank you for your company.”

She patted his knee. “Anytime. Especially if there are cakes involved.”

“You’re easy to please.”

“Always,” she agreed, tilting her head against the back of the couch and smiling at him askew. Their hands brushed together until he saw her to the door.

 

*

 

Transforming in T’challa’s office had never been a problem. When Darcy was awake, she felt the transformation come and hid under the bathrobe. When she wasn’t, T’challa covered her preemptively. One evening was different. Darcy was sleeping in an otherwise empty office when Okoye founded her butt-naked on the couch. The Dora Milaje was not amused.

Darcy woke up to a frowning woman and a lecture about proper conduct around royalty. Admittedly, she was so drowsy that she missed the start of it, but she definitely got the part where she was compared to a harlot. “Excuse me?” she spluttered.

Okoye gave her the stink eye. “Good, that got your attention. You can’t continue like this. Being a panther with only a few persons knowing about your identity gives you some freedom and leeway, but you’re pushing it. Don’t take advantage of the King’s leniency.”

A surge of indignation and anger battled with Darcy’s understanding and self-consciousness. She opened her mouth to answer something, anything that would get Okoye to back off. The door opened to let T’challa in. The self-consciousness won. She had never felt so embarrassed to only be covered by a flimsy layer of satin in his presence. She wasn’t able to meet his eyes.

It wasn’t hard for the King to guess something was wrong. Staring at his bodyguard’s crossed arms and then at his guest curling in a ball on the couch and meticulously covering every inch of her skin, he frowned and asked the former in their language: _“What did you do?”_

 _“I said what needed to be said,”_ Okoye replied, unmoved. _“It is my duty to protect you, even from the dangers you refuse to acknowledge.”_

T’challa’s frown deepened. _“As true as it is, be careful not to overstep your bounds. She’s my guest and will be treated as such.”_

Okoye bowed her head at the admonition.

“Leave us,” he ordered.

Once they were alone, he went to sit by Darcy’s side and put a hand on her shoulder. She shied away from him, which made him purse his lips.

“I should go,” she murmured.

“You may if it’s truly _your_ wish, but in no way should you feel obligated to.” He leaned towards her, although he was careful not to touch her. When she didn’t make a move to leave, he continued: “Darcy, would you tell me what this was about?”

“She thinks… that I shouldn’t be so familiar and casual with you. She’s probably right.”

T’challa touched her arm tentatively. When she didn’t reject him, he reached for her cheek and stroke it softly with the tip of his fingers. “That’s not for her to decide.” He caressed her chin and gently raised it to encourage her to meet his eyes. “Darcy.”  

Slowly, she looked up to see his tender smile.

“Your company is important to me. I don’t wish for our relationship to revert back to our first encounter. Do you?”

“No,” she admitted.

“Then that’s all that matters.”

“That’s easy for you to say.”

He tilted his head, questioning.

“You don’t want to go backward, but you don’t really want to go forward either, do you?” She watched him with sharp eyes, all bashfulness gone. “We’re both perfectly self-aware and conscious of what’s between us. It’s useless to beat around the bush… but maybe we should be aware of any boundaries.”

T’challa didn’t try to pretend he didn’t know what she was talking about. They both had too much respect for each other to bury their head in the sand about their relationship. He took one of her hands in his and stroked her skin with his thumb. After a few seconds of watching the rhythmic movement, he looked up at her, solemn. “I can’t give you what you deserve.”

She huffed. “Oh, please! Don’t be so dramatic. Maybe you should try with giving me what I want first.”

With a small lopsided smile, he indulged her: “What do you want?”

“Your love,” she said like it was simple and obvious.

T’challa watched every inch of her expression until she became self-conscious and looked down. He squeezed her hand to apologize. Maybe it was _that_ simple. Why love should be complicated? Everything around it, maybe. But the emotion itself?

“I’m not asking you for a marriage, T’challa. After all, we only just met twenty days ago… although it feels like so much more.” She pushed a strand of hair back around her ear and glanced up at him. “And I won’t ever ask for something you can’t give me anyway. It’s just… Could I? … get your love? Or should we agree right away that this will be friendship and nothing else?”

“ _Ikatana_ ,” he murmured, feeling a little lost. She was one step ahead and had caught him unaware. She had already recognized their mutual feelings and identified the risks, like he did, but she also chose to make everything clear, to ensure that whatever they did next, they would be in agreement. His feelings for her (he was past simple tenderness) had never been so strong and encompassing. It didn’t help him to think clearly.

“What does that mean? Ikatana? You call me that sometimes.”

“Kitten,” he admitted with a smirk.

“Oh.” Despite the small blush dusting her cheeks, she didn’t lose her sense of humor. “Nice. I have my own pet name, pun intended.”

“I couldn’t resist,” he admitted, raising her hand to his lips to kiss her knuckles, “just like I don’t think I could resist the temptation of your love.”

“Why should you?”

“You would be content with a covert relationship which end is inevitable?”

“Relationships are unpredictable anyway,” she pointed out with a shrug. “In my book, a short and private relationship is still better than frustrations and regrets.”

Caressing her hand distractedly, he asked: “Do you have any? Regrets?”

“Not since I was twenty-one years old, met an Asgardian god, nearly died twice and decided ‘screw it, I’m doing whatever I want, life is too short for caring about what other people think’.”

“A compelling argument,” he admitted, but his sense of duty and his conviction that he shouldn’t put Darcy in this situation were just as compelling. After a few seconds, he sighed. “May I think over it?”

“Of course. Keep me posted.”

He saw her to the door, like he always did. Before she could leave, he leaned down to kiss her hair. “Good night, _ikatana_.”

 

*

 

Although he didn’t speak much about it with Darcy, T’challa was kept busy by the politics surrounding her kidnapping. The first week had been all about interrogating and consulting.

In those conditions, coming to Darcy after work was a relief. She always made him feel better. Starting his day with her also motivated him to leave his bed despite what he knew was waiting for him after their jogging together.

The worst was still to come.

Two weeks after Darcy’s kidnapping, the culprits’ trial was broadcasted on national TV. Although they had lawyers to defend them, considering the nature of their crimes and the fact that they had been caught in the act, T’challa was the judge and the jury. Such a royal trial was rare. It was T’challa’s first as King of Wakanda. He was beyond nervous, although he didn’t show it.

Darcy wasn’t aware of the importance of the day but, that morning, she needed only a few minutes to notice his stress. She rubbed against him like a very loving cat, and T’challa buried his hands and face in her fur. Somehow, she managed a sound between a purr and a chuff, especially when he massaged her all over. They took so much time basking in each other’s presence and comfort that their usual run had to be shortened. It didn’t matter: it was a much more effective stress-relief.

The rest of the day was marked by protocol, long speeches (from him and others) to explain to the public the situation and T’challa’s thoughts on the matter (writing that particular speech had given him headaches during the previous days, somehow he had been the most productive at night, after Darcy had distracted him by making him listen to the contents of her iPod).

In the afternoon, the trial itself quickly became a political battlefield despite the prosecutor’s best efforts. T’challa was becoming restless. He had to interrupt the session for a short break before he did something he regretted, like cutting to the chase and giving his verdict here and there. He wasn’t a dictator. They had the freedom of speech.

 _“Public opinion is with you, T’challa,”_ his sister said to cheer him on.

_“How much?”_

She hesitated, which confirmed it wasn’t as great as she wanted him to believe. _“61 percent.”_

 _“This isn’t enough,”_ he hissed, clenching his fists around his elbows.

_“They’ll come around.”_

_“Bast willing,”_ he muttered under his breath before going back in.

The trial had started again for barely half an hour when the muttering of the public slowly calmed until they were all quiet. Clued in by the silence, lawyers, cameras, prosecutor and T’challa followed the stares looking at the back of the room, behind the royal throne.

Two obsidian statues of Bast trimmed with gold and vibranium were standing proudly in the corners. Between them,[ a waterfall fell from an arrangement of rocks and plants](http://i.newsarama.com/images/i/000/170/652/i02/The_Ultimates_8_Preview_2.jpg?1463513064). It was on this cliff that a black panther was strolling without a care in the world, until she realized that all eyes were on her, and then she froze, meeting T’challa eyes like a deer caught in the headlights.

 _“The ways of the gods are mysterious, nephew,”_ S’Yan liked to remind him, _“but they’re to be trust. Roll with the flow.”_

What else could he do?

 _“Tana,”_ he called, hoping she would understand that he had shortened her pet name (he couldn’t really call a panther “kitten” on national TV). _“Come here, Tana.”_ He gestured for her to be clearer.

Darcy immediately jumped down, nimbly bouncing on the rocks to reach the ground unharmed. She trotted around the throne’s ornaments and sat down by his feet without ever looking away. He leaned forward to massage her neck, which got her to rub herself against his leg. Conscious of all the eyes on them, T’challa reached for the tray on his left, where he had left drinks and food untouched, too anxious for any of it. He offered her an orange segment, which she happily ate before climbing with her forepaws on each side of his legs to get more. Once she had eaten four of them, he rubbed her muzzle with his two hands before pushing her down. _“Lie down, beautiful.”_

Guided by his hand, she obediently complied and stretched out on the ground with her head on her paws, looking around with half-opened eyes.

T’challa looked up to the prosecutor and, ignoring his wide-eyed expression, ordered with a laid back tone. _“Carry on.”_

The mood was different after that: more subdued, less prone to debate and questioning. Regularly, people (and cameras) glanced at the panther who napped peacefully. Once, someone raised his voice too much, and Darcy was so suddenly on her feet that the silence was immediate. Some people were nearly holding their breath while T’challa stroke her fur between the ears. She relaxed but didn’t go back to sleep before asking for some water. She did so by standing on her hind legs, balancing herself with her forepaws on the tray and nudging the carafe with her nose. T’challa poured her a cup and put it down on the ground, patting her back once she lied down again. Then, he looked up, glanced at the prosecutor and repeated patiently: _“Carry on.”_

Some time later, when he finally gave his verdict, exile, there were no protests. The trial ended without incident an hour before sundown.

“Did you plan this?” Shuri asked as soon as they were alone in an adjoining room. Darcy was quietly sitting at his feet.

“No. Darcy, did you purposefully walk in?”

The panther’s head went from one side to the other, and she did something looking like a shrug. It was the best she could communicate while in this form.

“Well, it worked,” Shuri pointed out, “you won eleven points in the public favor! Social networks are buzzing. It’s all about Tana the panther, how she’s related to you or to Bast, or simply how ‘awesome’ and ‘majestic’ she is. She’s the talk of the day, and if our estimations are right, this will greatly help you in the future. Only the best kings had panthers by their side during their golden years! Father had one for a time, but it has been more than fifteen years. If that doesn’t make the sceptics shut up, they are beyond Bast’s hope!”

Hearing this, Darcy puffed up with pride.

 

She still looked quite pleased with herself when she transformed in his office. She was slipping on the bathrobe with a wide grin. “At last, being a panther has some other use than overtaking you during your jogging!”

T’challa was watching her thoughtfully, leaning against his desk with his arms crossed. “Why did you walk in, Darcy?”

“I have actually no idea. I was having fun with the waterfall in your office when I suddenly had this… urge to go take a walk. Then I climbed a wall to reach a window so small that I had to squeeze in!”

He walked to her and held her face between his hands. “This is the truth?”

“Yes.” She frowned at him. “I felt like I was in a haze… or a trance maybe? Like a sleepwalker! Something like that. I definitely wasn’t clear-headed until I realized everyone was looking at me.”

He hummed in understanding and released her. “Bast’s doing, no doubt.”

“Well, I’m glad you were there, because I had absolutely no idea what to do. I don’t appreciate the feeling so I really hope your goddess won’t make an habit of it.” Then it was her turn to cross her arms, frown and glare at him. “And why didn’t you tell me about this trial anyway? This was about me!”

“I thought it best to tell you the outcome instead of burdening you with the matter. I was stressed enough for the both of us. What’s more, if you knew then Dr. Foster would have known, and we wanted you both out of trouble.”

“That’s a really shitty excuse,” Darcy pointed out as she poked him in the chest repeatedly. “I don’t like it, and Jane won’t ever.”

“We will talk more honestly tomorrow,” he promised. “For now, I must admit to be exhausted.”

Darcy huffed. “As you wish, your majesty,” she said with sarcasm and a curtsy.

A spark of pain at her reaction surprised him. Her opinion of him meant surprisingly so much. He couldn’t let her be angry with him. Stepping forward, T’challa caught her by the hand before she could leave. He captured her in the circle of his arms, pulling her back against his chest. “Don’t be upset with me, _ikatana,_ ” he whispered against her cheek. “I’m a king, I do what I think is best for all those under my care.”

“And ignore what the victim thinks?”

T’challa closed his eyes, breathed in her scent and cleared his mind of any political burden troubling him for weeks. After a few seconds, he nodded. “I made a mistake. I apologize for keeping you in the dark.”

She deflated and relaxed against him, stroking his forearm gently. “You’re forgiven. Will you be alright?”

“I should be, if everything goes well. Today was the most difficult, I believe.” He tilted his head towards her, the tip of his nose caressing her cheek. “Are you satisfied with the punishment of those who wronged you?”

“Exile seems fitting. They want a country so isolated that they hurt me and Abeba for it, and now they won’t be able to stay here. Serves them well.”

“I believe so too.” He kissed her temple impulsively. “Come, _ikatana_ , we should eat something more substantial than an orange.” He pushed her towards the coffee table holding what was supposed to be his dinner, but that he was willing or even eager to share with her.

“T’challa,” she murmured when their hands brushed one too many time. “You never answered my question… about us.”

“I didn’t,” he confirmed. Although he had thought about it every free second he had. “But I agree with you.” He brought a candied orange slice to her mouth. It disappeared between her lips with a glimpse of her tongue. Unable to look away, he muttered: “Regrets are a waste.” Slowly, he leaned forward.

Their lips touched softly, tasting of sugar and citrus. She leaned against him, and he welcomed her in the cradle of his arms. Their kisses were languid, unhurried, as they explored each other. It evolved in nuzzling and cuddling until, despite his best efforts, T’challa nearly dozed off.

Darcy chuckled and nudged him gently. “Come on, your Highness, let’s get you to bed. We’ll start this over tomorrow.” She accompanied him into his bedroom and put him to bed, pulling the sheet over him. She leaned down for a good night kiss.

He watched her disappear with half-closed eyes.

That night, T’challa dreamed of running in the jungle, surrounded by panthers.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings**  
>  \- Firstly, this chapter changes the story's rating to Mature instead of Teen.  
> \- Secondly, this chapter is unbetaed. I wasn't able to contact my previous beta. It has been waiting for so long in my drafts that I chose to publish it nonetheless as it is. If you're interested in editing this, come and talk to me on tumblr: lunaemoth.tumblr.com  
>  **EDIT:** This chapter has now (September 2nd) been edited by the awesome [dntpanic42](http://dntpanic42.tumblr.com/). ♥

“He did _what_ ?! And _you_ did what?” was Jane's very eloquent response to the events of Judgment Day (as Darcy liked to call it).

Dumping all the news on her at midnight might have been harsh, but Darcy hoped that it would work in her favor (it’s not like she could _talk_ at a more decent hour anyway). Jane had to choose which news was the most urgent to address.

“You kissed the King?!”

Good to know: Darcy’s love life was apparently top priority. “Yes.”

Jane’s face did a complex dance before settling on her ‘deeply concerned’ expression. “Are you…” She stopped, huffed and shook her head. “I don’t want to see you hurt,” she finally managed to admit.

“Aww, Janie.” The assistant (who was kinda laid off for operational reasons) stood up from her slouch on the bed to hug her boss. "It's nice of you to worry but I'm lucid enough to know that this won't end like a fairytale. It'll just... be some fun, you know, some weeks or months spent with someone really great who happens to be a King. I know it'll end sooner rather than later, and I'll be sad about it, but heartbreak isn't really my style anyway, too Victorian period. I'm a modern girl." Darcy gave her friend a cheeky smile to hide the wistfulness of her words.

Jane sighed. "It's good that you're self-aware. I don't want to see you go through the same thing as me."

Darcy patted her boss's knee. "Nah, I don't want to steal your spotlight as most epic love-story of the galaxy. I'll be fine, don't worry. Some kisses and cuddles with royalty won't spoil me for the rest of my life!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jane grumbled with narrowed eyes.

Darcy chuckled nervously and waved her hand. "Nothing, nothing!"

"Right... Tell me more about this trial," the astrophysicist asked, back to business. As Darcy explained, Jane paced in her room like a panther in cage, her arms crossed and her lips pursed. "So Dr. Djomo was really involved in your kidnapping? The bastard. I should have guess. Anyone with such deeply flawed views and unable to imagine being wrong could only be a conceited nationalist," she grumbled. "Still, King T'challa could have at least keep us informed of the investigation! The nerve of him to keep us in the dark!"

"I told him you wouldn't like it," Darcy said, lounging on the couch freed by the nervous ball of rightful outrage walking around.

"Damn right, I don't! He'll hear me on this!" Jane promised and went to ramble about how wrong and presumptuous it was.

"They're exiled. At least, they're well punished," Darcy pointed out.

"It's the least he could do! What about Abeba? Did she know? Did you hear about her?"

"No, I didn't. I'll look for her later. Although I'm pretty sure that, even if she was kept in the dark, she's more used to it than us. This isn't a democratic country, remember. That's how they always worked here, and they trust their King... mostly..."

"... especially now that they think he has Bast's blessing thanks to you, right?" Jane said with a raised eyebrow.

"Well... yes," Darcy agreed with a sheepish smile. She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to take this new “messenger of a goddess” role that she apparently had obtained unwillingly, but she figured that, as long as it worked in T’challa’s favor, it was good. She hoped that the ‘walking around in trance’ part of her new job (still unpaid, may she pointed out) wouldn’t be a regular thing, though.

It was late by then, and they both had a long day, Darcy especially. They went to sleep.

 

*

 

In the morning, Darcy went to T'challa's room and woke him up, like she always did. Except that this time he simply shifted on his side, threw an arm around her and pulled her against his torso like a makeshift teddy-bear.

Surprised, Darcy imagined a young T'challa cuddling with a plush panther. She laughed, or at least made this weird chuffing noise that was the equivalent in her feline shape.

He grumbled and nuzzled her fur. "Someone is in a good mood," he noted before sitting with his back to the golden headboard.

Darcy crawled on his lap and craned her neck to rub her muzzle against his jaw (he had a slight stubble in the morning, one that Darcy would have found prickly if she was human, but in this moment she was the furriest one).

T'challa chuckled and indulged her affectionate behavior. Lazing a few more minutes than usual during their morning routine was an indulgence that they could afford. It was private; it was theirs.

Jogging this morning wasn't as peaceful as it used to be. Wherever they went in the palace, stares followed and whispers mentioned her name (or rather, the panther's makeshift name). Tana the panther was becoming as noteworthy as the King.

Now, when Darcy strolled alone in the gardens, it was different. She didn't understand why at first. She was a panther in liberty for Bast's sake: why this reverent awe now and not before? Later, when she talked about it with T'challa she understood: panthers were sacred animals, rarely aggressive toward Wakandan unless provoked. They were favored, and to see one was a good omen. Apparently, it wasn't unusual for some to wander around the palace. They were still _just_ wild animals though. Touching them or going too close to them wouldn't cross any Wakandan's mind. Treating them like a house pet (feeding them for example) was also frowned upon. That's why, apart from some respectful glances before, Darcy hadn't received much attention.

Tana the panther was different. She obeyed the King. Only the familiars granted by Bast to a ruling King behaved this way. As such, she was considered an extension of Bast. She was revered as such. She was watched as such.

Now, people stopped and stepped out of her way when she walked in the hallways. Some bowed their head or even their bust for the most excessive ones.

Thankfully, touching her was even more unthinkable now that she was considered “divine”. Really, that was the word they used! Well, apparently, there wasn't an appropriate translation for the Wakandan word meaning "divine-by-proxy", but still. Darcy was grateful for the no touching because the stares and whispers were already tiresome.

Darcy ended up staying in T'challa's rooms for most of the day once she left Jane after breakfast. This morning's meal had taken a little longer than usual, because the tray brought to them was covered with expensive local delicacies and american imported goods. A letter from T'challa was on a box of Jane's favorite tea (“and how did he know that?” Jane had asked, staring at Darcy who had shrugged). It was a letter of apology for keeping them in the dark about Judgement Day.

Darcy, who didn't know about this letter or the gifts, wondered when the King had the time to organize this, but she was distracted by Jane's commentary.

"If he thinks he can buy my forgiveness, he's absolutely mistaken!" she protested.

Except that the King's apology wasn't only about food: he extended their visa and granted to Jane more freedom and help for her research, allowing her to use Wakandan facilities that she hadn't even heard of until now.

When T'challa came back to his rooms this evening, he told Darcy that Jane was still buried in her work. He had gone to see her, and she had barely taken five minutes to tell him to "not do that ever again" and give him the obligatory threat: that he "better take care of Darcy" or else...

Darcy chuffed in laughter and rolled on her back to better convey her hilarity. Jane was so predictable! And T'challa had played her well. She managed to convey that thought with an amused glance and her tongue lolling out of her mouth. He grinned in answer, unrepentant. He was a diplomat and a scientist, he knew how to handle people, even more so the scientific minds.

After she changed shape, Darcy put on the bathrobe and went to sit on T'challa's lap to give him a good and thorough kiss. Anyone able to deal with Jane so brilliantly and respectfully deserved praise... or a reward.

He didn't object, even when she stayed with her head on his shoulder and his arm around her waist while he worked. This was comfortable.

 

*

 

Two days later, Darcy was still annoyed by all the attention she received. Feeling watched, she cooped herself up in the palace. As such she couldn't distract herself from her non-human state as she usually did by exploring when she was alone (she had invented her own game of spy! don't judge, it was great). Wanting to use her phone, her computer, the TV or even a book (anything!), she felt extremely frustrated by her shape's restrictions. Sulking (although she refused to admit that it was what she was doing), she played with the waterfall in T'challa's office and didn't notice his arrival when he came back from work relatively early. She was too busy splashing water on everything in reach.

A firm hand suddenly appeared to catch her paw before it could smash once again on the surface. Arms went around her torso, under her forelegs, and she was lifted from her perch like a misbehaving puppy. She whined and kicked without effect.

T'challa was tutting, somewhere above her head. "Bad _ikatana_ , such a bad girl," he said in english, no doubt to tease her, the royal asshole.

She squirmed, but he had a good grip despite her size and weight. The Black Panther's strength in effect, no doubt.

He let her go in the bedroom, dropping her on a padded bench at the end of his bed. Darcy caught herself before rolling down and turned around to see him go in his walk-in closet. He didn't close the door, which allowed her to see his bare back when he removed his tunic.

"I understand that you feel pent-up, Darcy," he said as he changed in sports' clothes. "These last few days are wearing on me too. Thankfully, everything is going well since the trial. People seem to willingly follow my lead. I think we can afford a break."

Darcy had laid down on the bench with her paws before her eyes when T'challa had removed his pants without a care in the world. She couldn't help but move her paws just a little when he stopped talking. He was in boxers, and his amazing body was such a sight! Muscles rolled under his skin as he shifted, his ebony skin shining under the golden lights. If she was in human shape, she would have been drooling; as it was, she didn't even realize that her tail was undulating in interest.

T'challa came out several minutes later with hiking shoes and a backpack. "Come on. I'll show you the palace's private forest. No one in sight for miles, just trees, springs, waterfalls and both of us. Interested?"

Darcy was at the door before he finished his question.

He chuckled and led the way out.

 

The forest had a few hiking trails, but was mostly left untouched. The one that T’challa chose was difficult, sloping steeply upwards. It didn’t slow him down much. If she had been in her human shape, Darcy would have been unable to follow him. As a panther, she was often ahead of him and had time to appreciate the scenery and the serenity of this untouched place. Raising her head high, she sniffed the exotic smells, most of which she wouldn’t have noticed in her other body.

A hand pet her fur before resting on her head. She nuzzled him happily, nudging him forward. He chuckled. “We’re nearly there,” he explained. “Are you ready for some climbing?”

The last part of the path was full of rocks. Big and uneven rocks that made a makeshift stairs to what Darcy guessed was a waterfall if the noise becoming louder as they neared was any indication.

A bit wary, she let T’challa go first and watched carefully as he moved with the ease of someone who came here regularly. When he was up and gesturing for her, she huffed and did as she always did with this panther business: she stopped overthinking it and trusted the mysterious instincts that came included with the body-shifting. She was by T’challa side within three leaps.

“This is my favorite place, my sanctuary,” the King explained as he led her to the waterfall.

It was the first of many going down toward the palace. They could see the gardens from here and the city in the distance. A spring came out of the hill and fell for three meters in a small pond. It was shallow, the water perfectly limpid, the rocks smooth and round, sometimes covered in moss. Ferns grew around and trees shade this small piece of heaven. It was gorgeous, and it was just for them.

T’challa dropped the backpack and removed his shoes and shirt without hesitation, leaving him in shorts. He sat with his feet in the water and sighed in pleasure.

Darcy followed, dipping her paws in the pond. It was cool. Considering it was still hot despite the late hour, she didn’t hesitate: she meowed in pleasure and jumped in, splashing happily.

T’challa watched her silently with a fond and amused smile, until she came a little too close and splashed him. Then it was war.

The water fight was intense, but T’challa, with his two hands and long legs, had the advantage. Darcy slipped on the rocks, fell flat in the deepest part of the pond (with just enough water to reach her ears) and surfaced spewing water. T’challa laughed at her. She jumped on him to take her revenge.

Utterly drenched and breathless, they made peace and sprawled on the rocks to dry and enjoy the calm.

The water falling, their slow breaths, the bird singing and the insects noises were all there was to hear. They were alone. No expectations. No pressure.

Peace.

 

Darcy was dozing off when she felt it. The itch. It woke her up right away and she jumped in the pond without thinking, conditioned by Okoye’s insistence that she covered herself.

The sun had disappeared under the horizon, leaving them in the weak but colorful light of dusk.

“Kitten,” T’challa murmured. He hadn’t moved, still laying down with an arm over his eyes. “You realize that the water won’t hide anything, don’t you?”

A glance confirmed it: all the water did was distorting her shape a little, certainly not hiding an inch of skin.

“Gasp! Did you plan this your Highness?” Darcy asked theatrically. “To get me naked on the first date? Shame on you!”

He chuckled, but his arm stayed in place. “You can use my shirt if it bothers you. I have towels in my bag.”

“It won’t hide much either,” she replied distractedly. She was more concerned by another detail. “Are we supposed to get down the same way? I’m not sure I can do it in this form… certainly not naked and bare feet… and at night.”

T’challa hummed. “I didn’t think this through. I sometimes sleep here, but I should have asked if this was okay with you.”

“Here?! Your people won’t worry?”

“They’ll check my tracker and notice where I am. They leave me alone when I’m here.”  

“And… it’s safe?”

“The only ones who might attack you here are a few mosquitoes.”

Darcy hesitated, but she didn’t have a choice anyway. She would certainly have appreciated to hear about sleeping under the stars earlier though. She wasn’t really fond of camping. It wasn’t a tragedy of course: it wouldn’t be her first sleepless night, especially not since she was a panther napping a lot during the day, but still…

“You’re really bad at the ‘sharing your plans with people instead of deciding of everything on your own’ part of a relationship, you know?”

“I…” He hesitated before sighing. “Yes, it seems so. I’m sorry.”

“I might forgive you… if you promise to keep me warm during the night…” she offered, moving towards him in the water. “Since it’s your fault that I’m naked...”

He hummed and slowly removed his arm. “It seems… fair.”

Her wet hand rested on his. Her thumb rubbed his wrist. She craned her neck for a kiss. “Isn’t it?” She breathed against his lips, until he distracted her. His mouth had quickly become her favorite distraction. Firm but tender, he kissed like he did everything else: with dedication and passion.

She had to move to deepen the kiss. Her breasts brushed against his bare chest, and they shivered at the intimate contact.  

“T’challa,” she pleaded.

He growled and pulled her closer, forgetting modesty in favor of the touch they craved. She pulled back, and he slid with her in the water, immediately getting a lap full of warm skin. The contrast with the cool water didn’t deter them in the least, on the contrary. To Darcy, it seemed like water made things easier: no disagreeable friction, no sweat…

 

In fact, it was more awkward for her afterwards, when they shifted away from each other, and T’challa truly looked at her. Night had fallen, but the moon was nearly full, allowing them enough light to see each other. That’s when her nudity became embarrassing, and Darcy turned away, trying to hide her nervousness by suggesting some spooning. Not fooled in the least, T’challa pulled her back to his chest and kissed her cheek, her ear, her neck and shoulder. He murmured something in his language before translating: “You’re beautiful. Don’t hide from me, _ikatana_.”

She blushed and held onto the muscular forearm wrapped around her waist.

“Give me a second. You must be hungry,” he whispered, kissing her temple before standing. He went to grab his backpack but quickly came back to sit just like they were. He offered her a towel to dry her hair and opened a bag of dried fruits, feeding them to her in between a few for himself.  

The rocks weren’t exactly comfortable. She dearly wished she could sink into a pillow and hide under a blanket. Nature didn’t have any care for human’s prudishness though… just like T’challa.

His free hand rested on her hip, his thumb rubbing her skin in gentle circles. He caressed all the places she was self-conscious of for their softness and size, when he was all muscles and firmness. It didn’t seem to bother him at all. Everytime she tried to move away or escape his wandering hands, his caresses became tickles, and he smirked until she submitted to his gentle touch.

Once they had finished the food and he had explored all her body, he kissed her temple and murmured sweet words in her ear. She didn’t understand them but it didn’t matter, the feelings behind them were clear: acceptance and affection. She settled in his embrace.

 

As expected, she didn’t sleep much, barely dozing from time to time, but watching the stars had never felt as special as that night.

T’challa had a much easier time falling asleep than her, but even he woke up often. Whenever he did, he whispered her name, checking how she was doing. Sometimes she simply hummed and told him to go back to sleep; often she used the opportunity to change their positions, looking for a comfortable one despite their rocky environment. A few times (mostly when she was responsible for waking him because she was moving), she grumbled that she was cold. He then diligently made her see stars more… intimately, until he could ask her smugly: “Still cold?” Breathless, she only gave him a shake of her head in answer, and he went back to sleep right after, quite pleased with himself.  

It was a memorable night.

 

When the dawn came, Darcy awoke to a familiar itch and gently removed T’challa’s arms to sink into the water. She rubbed her face quickly to get the worse of the tiredness away before she shifted into her panther shape.

T’challa watched her with sleepy eyes after washing his hands and face in the clear water. When she stared back, he smiled and gestured for her to come forward. She rubbed herself against his side, and he pet her back gently, resting his head against her neck. They breathed together for a while, peacefully staring at the sunrise’s colors.

The King of Wakanda had duties though, and he stood up with a sigh to dry and dress.

They reached T’challa’s rooms at the hour when they usually finished their morning jog, and he went to shower and change after a last kiss dropped on her forehead.

Back to work.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick update compared to the previous one, isn't it? You can thank the Civil War DVD release. All those gifs on tumblr inspired me (T'challa everywhere! but not only, you'll see).  
> You can also thank my new beta, [dntpanic42](http://dntpanic42.tumblr.com/), for editing this chapter quickly and efficiently!

Days passed by, marked by kisses, hugs and sleeping together when T’challa had the time and energy to do so (which, to be fair, was relatively often now that the trial was over).

The palace’s staff got used to her panther shape and Darcy got used to them. She went out more often.

Still, nothing changed about her double life.

She mentioned it to T’challa one evening.

They were on the couch. She was lying with her head on his lap while he watched a Wakandan sport on TV (some kind of traditional wrestling, the most important sport in the nation, admittedly it looked badass but the rules were complex).

“Do you think your goddess… Bast… is going to lift her curse anytime soon?”

Sitting with an arm thrown over the couch’s back, T’challa glanced down to meet her eyes before going back to admire an impressive attack.

“It’s not a _curse_ , Darcy.”

Darcy huffed out an annoyed breath.“That’s easy for you to say. You aren’t the one living during the night because the rest of the time you’re a furry with four legs and no hands! That’s the worst part, honestly. I could deal with fur and walking on all fours if I had some freaking hands,” she ranted, shaking her hands to emphasize her point.

 _“TV, mute,”_ T’challa said in his language. Immediately, the annoying commentators finally shut up. “ _Ikatana_ ,” he started in that patient tone of voice warning her that he was going to be very logical and sensible and expected the same from her.

“No,” she refused, sitting up and facing him. “It’s tiring, T’challa, alright? I don’t know anything: why? for how long? and what’s the fucking point?! I get it, it’s your religion, and you’ve got faith and everything, but _I_ don’t. How am I supposed to when I don’t know anything about Bast? I mean, apart that she saved my ass by transforming me into a panther? Which, you know, I’m grateful for! But, just… I don’t...” She scrunched up her nose in frustration, her voice trailing off.

He cupped her cheek gently and kissed the tip of her nose. “I understand.” Slowly, he caressed her cheekbone with his thumb while thinking over his answer. “I believe, and my uncle tends to agree, that you’ve been chosen as a messenger, and that the shifts will stop when their purpose has ended.”

“What’s their purpose?”

“We have a lot of theories and no certitudes. Only Bast knows.”

She grunted in annoyance. “Aren’t you and your uncle supposed to be… I don’t know… able to talk to Bast or something?”

He smiled, a little lopsided. “I wish it was that simple. It would make things easier.”

“Yeah, _too_ easy,” she grumbled.

“In any case, if anyone can get answers, it would be you.”

“Me?”

“You’re her messenger, remember?”

“So you say. I didn’t get the memo.”

He rubbed her chin distractedly. “As you said yourself, you know little about Bast. You don’t _believe_.”

“What are you suggesting? That I convert to get the illumination?”

“I’m suggesting that you learn what concerns you personally.”  

“Enlighten me then, your highness.”

  


_*_

 

Darcy was agnostic. A non-believer until proved otherwise.

Existence of Nordic Divinities: proved but reclassified as extraterrestrial beings. No gods. Just aliens. Great looking ones, not the ugly kind. A point in their favor.

Existence of Bast: proved by supernatural and scientifically unexplainable healing and daily metamorphosis. Divinity? Debatable. No matter what centuries of Wakandan mythology had to say about it.

Don’t get her wrong, it was fascinating mythology.

It helped to pass the time when she was alone in T’challa’s office. He had set up a database about Bast and Wakanda in english which was motion-controlled just for her. A screen was projected on the wall. She just had to move her paws where she wanted to navigate. No fingers needed. No talking needed.

Her royal lover was a genius.

And he had a sense of humor! After two hours of reading, when she started dozing off, a pop-up appeared and asked “Do you want to play?”. When she chose yes, a butterfly appeared on screen and she had to catch it. As soon as she managed it, it multiplied in an explosion of colors. Butterfly hunt party!

Afterwards, Darcy took a few seconds to wonder if T’challa wasn’t making fun of her and watching her jump around thanks to some hidden camera (spoiler: he totally did).

Anyway, back to her research!

From what Darcy gathered, Bast was similar enough to what she knew of Egyptian mythology, but the Wakandan stories were a little different from the modern interpretations.

Most importantly, Bast was as much a ‘she’ as a ‘he’. Wakanda’s language apparently had a gender-neutral pronoun created for their god and used by the genderfluid who they called “god’s children”, which was really pretty cool. T’challa probably didn’t know about the use of the “they” pronoun by the english gender non conforming community. Darcy will have to mention it to him.

Bast was essentially a god of celebration; pleasure, music and dance being equally associated with them (Darcy decided to refer to Bast this way, since it was clearly more appropriate). Wakanda’s most important holiday celebrated Bast and basically was just a _giant_ party.

However, they were described as deriving their energy from the sun, and their wrath was terrible. Basically, their foes’ (Wakanda’s enemies) end was always swift and formidable.

That was the problem with mythology: where did the truth ended and the propaganda started?

Basically, from what Darcy gathered, Bast was cool. Unless you pissed them off, then you were cold dead.

So, a good God to have on her side.

What interested her more were the tales of shapeshifting. Wakanda’s mythology was full of those. People becoming panthers. Panthers becoming humans. There was pretty much every variation imaginable.

Again, were they all true? Most probably not. Still, such a fascination for the subject meant that there were probably some seeds of truth in it. She wasn’t the first shapeshifter.

Actually, there was a tale which she could relate with. It was old, and she found it pretty late in her research.

A long time ago, before Wakanda was a united country, a young woman fled her tribe to avoid an abusive betrothed. She got lost in the depths of the jungle, wandered endlessly, drinking rain and eating fruits, until she was bitten by a snake and slowly succumbed to its venom. She awoke in panther form and, again, wandered around in the jungle, alone and lost for days.

Captivated by the tale, Darcy barely noticed when she changed shape, simply grabbing her bathrobe and putting it on when a draft caressed her skin.

“After thirty days, she met a warrior in the jungle and saved him from the same snake who bit her,” Darcy read outloud.

“That warrior later became the first King of Wakanda, Bashenga.”

Startled, Darcy would have hit T’challa if he hadn’t caught her by the waist, trapping her arms against her chest. “Shit. T’challa! I’m going to put a bell on you, your Highness. I didn’t hear you, _again_.”

He kissed her neck. “I noticed.” A drag of his nose pushed away her hair from her face and allowed him to kiss her cheek. “I thought you’d appreciate this tale. I see I wasn’t wrong.”

“She helped the first King of Wakanda? What did she become?”

“She protected him, until the day he was crowned. Then, she changed back in human form. Her purpose had ended.”

“And she lived happily ever after?” Darcy joked, enjoying his embrace.

“I suppose so. She became Queen.”

She froze and shied away from his next kiss.

Just a few seconds late, T’challa understood his mistake and let her go. She walked away. He followed her, although he didn’t try to touch her again. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mention it.”

“Well, I asked, didn’t I?” Darcy tried to laugh but it fell short. “I don’t want to be queen. I mean... the title, I don’t care about it,” she felt obligated to specify.

“I know,” he simply acknowledged, solemn.

“Okay.” She nodded and looked away. “Good. Mh… How was your day?”

“I missed you.”

It was so… brutally honest in its simplicity that it made her want to cry. Instead, she jumped in his arms and kissed him until they were out of breath.

This Queen business mattered little. She had one of the best lover on Earth.

 

*

 

“You’re trying to get me high.”

“I thought that we had established that if I want you high I don’t need any drugs to do so.”

“Your Highness,” she gasped. “...You’re totally right.” Nodding very seriously, she smirked right back at him, their eyes twinkling with the same humor. She looked down at the pill he gave her. “So… this will make me dream?”

“Yes. At worst, you’ll have very vivid dreams. At best, Bast will answer your questions.”

“Any side effects?”

“The only time I used it, I was quite thirsty afterwards. From what my uncle said, you might also experience a headache.”

“It doesn’t sound any worse than a hangover I suppose.” She rolled the pill in her palm thoughtfully.

“They’re reserved to Bast’s cult, usually for her priests or special ceremonies, but my uncle agreed that you should have the opportunity to try it. You may get better answers than he did.”

“Alright, then…” Darcy breathed out nervously.

“You may sleep here if you wish that I oversee your rest,” he offered.

She shook her head. “No, you said that you have meetings early tomorrow outside of the palace. You need your sleep.”

“Darcy, it’s not…”

She raised a finger to silence him. “If anything goes wrong in my sleep, am I supposed to believe that you won’t be immediately notified?”

He closed his mouth, looked down and tilted his head in admission.

She snorted. “That’s what I thought. Privacy, such a strange concept for foreigners in Wakanda, isn’t it?”

He glanced at her. “Does it bother you?”

She shrugged. “I’m sleeping with the King. I expected some concessions. And considering I spend half of my time as a panther? I don’t think I have much to hide anymore. I do hope your security officers find my internet research history interesting. There were some great panther videos in there. I’d have shown you some, but of course you already have the best living model right here, so why bother?” She teased, gesturing to herself with a smirk.

T’challa chuckled and reached for her free hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss the soft skin. “I’m grateful for your understanding.”

“I trust you to not abuse it, especially concerning Jane and her work.”

“Of course. You’re only monitored for your security and Wakanda’s.”

She hummed and stood up. “Alright. I’m going to let you sleep and test this little green pill.”

“Don’t hesitate to come to me in the morning, no matter how early it is.”

“Yes, your Highness,” she replied cheekily with a curtsy.

To punish her for her insolence, T’challa caught her by the hips and dragged her back on his lap for a last kiss. “I hope you’ll find answers to your questions, _ikatana_ ,” he wished before letting her go.

 

*

 

Fog. Everywhere.

Darcy turned around endlessly, until…

There. A dark silhouette stepped out of the fog. A tall humanoid with a panther head, with black fur an instant and golden skin and jewels the next.

“Bast,” Darcy breathed, kneeling.

Or was she? Was she kneeling or was it the god suddenly becoming much bigger, taking a white panther shape taller than trees? The god was constantly shifting.

“Human,” they said in a loud but low voice, all-encompassing. “You wished to see me. Talk. I listen.”

“Uh… I… First of all, I wanted to thank you for saving me. I'm _really_ grateful. But, uh, I say this without ill will, but I was wondering why I was spending my days in panther form since?”

“I helped you. Now, you help me.”

“Alright... That seems fair, but _how_ am I supposed to help you?”

“For centuries, I’ve lived. I know that change is inevitable. It is history. To resist is to lose. To embrace this change is to thrive. For centuries, I’ve helped Wakanda become great. I’ve encouraged their independence knowing it would make them stronger. Now is a time of change. Wakanda must open itself to the world. Stronger enemies will come. Earth needs Wakanda just as much as Wakanda needs Earth. King T’challa understands this. He’ll lead Wakanda on the right path. He mustn't be opposed. I will see to it. You are the executor of my will. Go.”

The dream fell apart all around them. The fog became darkness.

“Wait! The transformation! When will it stop?”

“You have the heart of a panther. Embrace it.”

 

*

 

“Very practical. Very helpful,” were Darcy’s thoughts as she woke up. Feeling groggy, she needed a few seconds to realize that someone was calling her.

She was still in her rooms, but she wasn’t alone.

Abeba was here.

The diplomatic attaché was standing by her bed, calling her name softly until their eyes met. She smiled gently. “Hello, sleepy head. It’s ten in the morning. I was asked by Dr Foster and the King to come check on you since you missed your usual rendezvous with them both. Are you alright?”

Darcy meant to answer with a “yes”, but all that came out was a short grunt. Of course. She was a panther, again.

“The King told me that you’d probably be thirsty. Here.” Abeba put down a bowl of water nearby, carefully holding it while Darcy moved in a position to drink.

She was parched and guzzled down the water in record time. When she felt better, she rolled around in the bed (she had long ago resigned herself to sheets covered in hair) before staring at Abeba.

“It has been a while, hasn’t it? How have you been?”

Darcy stretched out to show how relaxed she was before pointing at Abeba with a nod of her jaw.

“Me? I’m well. I’ve been working with Dr. Foster and enjoying some time with my husband. After our abduction, he has been very insistent about spending more time together. He feels better since the King passed judgement…” Abeba reached for a tray left on a table and put it down in front of Darcy. She was avoiding meeting her eyes, not liking to show her emotions. “Me too, to be honest. Exile was the best outcome possible. I heard they’ve already been escorted to the border. It’s a relief. The King was fair and swift, like his father before him.”

Darcy rumbled in understanding and ate the fruits cut in pieces for her.

“I see you’re doing well enough. I’ll leave you to your meal and go back to my duties,” Abeba said as she went for the door.

Frustrated that she couldn’t hold a conversation like she wished to, Darcy settled for a wave of her tail as goodbye.

Despite the meal, she was feeling drowsy. That herbal pill certainly had made a number on her. It was hard to think about her dream in that state. She felt… restless. She needed to move. She needed to be away from here.

She was needed.

Now.

Her legs carried her out. Out of the window, out of the gardens, out of the palace… She ran as fast as she could, which in her form was _fast_. She put the grounds she was familiar with well behind her. She ended up in the streets with people gaping at her, leading her to leap up on railings, windows and roofs. Jumping from building to building, she crossed part of the city until she reached a tall fence. Ha! Easy.

Leap up, run up the ramps and rails. Jump again and again, from roof to roof.

Darcy barely registered that she was in a strange modern complex. She has reached her objective. He was here. Lying on the ground, one eye behind his gun sights, a finger on the trigger. He didn’t hear her.

 

*

 

T’challa had just received a message on his phone from his sister: “ _Darcy has left the palace. Very quickly heading your way.”_

He barely had time to wonder how Darcy could know where he was and why she would come here, especially in a hurry.

The shot startled them all.

He dropped to the floor, and Okoye covered him in a blink. On the other side of the coffee table, his hosts had done the same: Steve Rogers covering Wanda Maximoff while Sam Wilson crawled behind the couch, away from the window.

“Sniper!” One of the Dora Milaje shouted. “On the roof, across the garden! There’s… wait.”

Okoye pushed T’challa behind the armchair and growled: “What?!”

 _“Bast be praised,”_ the Dora Milaje whispered in their language. _“I think it’s Tana.”_

“Is that a panther?!” Sam Wilson was asking at the same time, from his viewpoint. “Yeah, that _definitely_ looks like a panther beating up a sniper.”

T’challa took the time to check the situation. The noise they had all heard was caused by a bullet-hole in the window. The projectile had ended its course in the ground, far away from all of them. By attacking the sniper, Darcy had apparently avoided an assassination. Whose? He would like to know, but there were more urgent matters: Darcy.

T’challa left the room in a rush, crossed the garden and leaped up to a windowsill on the first floor. Floor after floor, he climbed up to finally reach the roof, leaving guests and bodyguards in the dust below.

A little breathless but much more worried, T’challa looked around the flat roof.

Here she was, away from the rifle, sitting proudly on the chest of a soldier with her claws resting against his bare throat. She turned toward T’challa calmly, her tail swinging behind her, showing just how pleased she was with herself.

Whispering prayers of thanks to Bast under his breath, T’challa walked up to her. “Did Bast send you, Tana?”

She answered with a slow nod before staring behind him.

Steve Rogers landed on the roof, surrounded by the red magic of the Scarlet Witch, only relaxing when he found no-one to hit. Wanda herself appeared a few seconds after. When she didn’t find anything to fight, she brought up Sam and Okoye.

Darcy stared at T’challa with a very judgemental look which he interpreted as a “Really? You’re harboring international fugitives?! We’re so going to talk about that, your Highness,” sarcasm on the title included.

“Steve. There’s a black panther sitting on the assassin,” Sam stated, deadpan.

“So I see,” Steve confirmed.

T’challa crouched down beside the soldier who was staring at Tana in fright. _“It seems Bast is angry with you, enough to send her messenger after you.”_

 _“Don’t… don’t let her eat me,”_ the sniper pleaded.

 _“I do not think you’re to her tastes. She has a rather… refined palate.”_ T’challa pet Tana’s head distractedly, still focused on the sniper. _“Who were you trying to kill?”_

The man stayed stubbornly quiet.

With a sigh, T’challa glanced at Darcy, who helpfully roared in the soldier’s face.

 _“T-the foreigners!”_ He stuttered, terrified. _“Any of the foreigners! Please, Bast, spare me!”_

_“We shall see.”_

By now, the rest of the Dora Milaje had reached the roof by the stairwell. T’challa led Tana away. The female warriors immediately tied up the assassin.

“Is it a pet, an attack dog or what?” Sam asked, staring at Tana but smartly not pointing at her. That didn’t change the fact that Darcy growled at him, which made him take a step backward.

“ _She_ can understand you, and she’s Bast’s messenger. She carries her will.”

“Right,” Sam drawled. “No offense, but I usually picture a god’s messenger with wings.”

Before they could do more than blink, Tana had jumped on Sam and caused him to fall on his back. She happily sprawled on him, her muzzle brushing his chin.

T’challa cleared his throat to stop his laughter. “I believe she was trying to show you that she doesn’t in fact need wings.”

Wanda didn’t bother to hide her amusement, she chuckled openly.

Steve shook his head but he was smirking. “You deserve that one.”

“Ouch, girl, you’re heavy!” Sam complained, his hands held out high in his hesitation to touch her.

Darcy squirmed and made herself more comfortable on her new rug.

“Yes, Sam, very helpful calling a lady fat,” Steve mocked him.

“Wait. Shit, is that blood?”

All trace of humor immediately disappeared from T’challa when Sam showed that the hand touching Tana’s side was bloody. “Tana. Here. Come here,” he called immediately.

Darcy came to him.

He crouched down. He couldn't see anything, blood being nearly invisible on the black fur. He brushed his hands along her side until she tensed and he found the injury. It wasn’t big but it was important enough to bleed. _“Call a vet,”_ he ordered Okoye.

_“Yes, your Majesty.”_

“Is she alright?” Wanda asked, worried.

“She will be.”

 

*

 

They went back inside, to another meeting room, this one not overlooked.

Darcy complied with the veterinarian who treated her wound, ignoring the way he fawned over her in Wakandan (she didn’t understand everything, but his tone of voice and the few words she knew were enough). She ended up with a bandage around her torso, under her ribs, but didn’t care much about it. The gash hadn’t hurt much in the first place.  

She walked to T’challa’s side, rubbed her good side against his legs and lied down on his feet, yawning as she did so. She looked at the fugitives with half-closed eyes.

Sam Wilson was staring right back at her. She showed him her teeth. He looked away with a scowl. He was so fun to mess with!

“If our presence is a problem...” Steve Rogers was saying, following the conversation they were having about them being the assassination targets.

“It’s not,” T’challa answered. "The isolationists are a problem which I had thought curbed. This shows there are still dissidents, but they’ll be identified and taken care of. You’re my guests, you’re safe here.”

“Are we?” Sam questioned, doubtful.

“You aren’t the ones injured, are you?” T’challa replied drily as he petted Darcy’s head. She bent her neck to rub against his hand and reassure him that she was fine.

“We’re grateful for your… panther’s intervention,” Steve said diplomatically,” but our presence here is supposed to be secret.”

“And it still is. Those who’re looking for you will find no allies in Wakanda, even less so with the isolationists. They despise any foreigners.”

Wanda sighed and leaned over the armrest. “I wished we could belong somewhere…”

Despite her mixed feelings about the fiascos provoked by the Avengers last year, Darcy couldn’t help but sympathize with the young woman’s plight. She went to comfort her, rubbing her head against a bare knee and accepting some petting in return.

“Tana, that’s her name, right?” Wanda asked T’challa. She seemed extremely happy at the contact, as if she had been eagerly waiting for the opportunity.

“Yes,” T’challa confirmed, watching thoughtfully.

Steve was looking at them with a smile, apparently pleased by Wanda’s happiness. When Darcy moved her muzzle closer to him, he offered his open palm and she rubbed herself against it (purely to be able to say that she touched Captain America without lying!).

Sam was still staring.

She stuck her tongue out at him.

“What the hell”, the man sputtered. “Did she just…? Did you train your pet to do that?” he turned, accusing, towards the king.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” T’challa replied, stone-faced.

Her boyfriend was the best.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy that part of Team Cap finally appears?  
> Let me know what you thought of it! Here or on tumblr: lunaemoth.tumblr.com


	9. Chapter 9

“Team Cap, really?” were Darcy first words when she transformed in the privacy of T’challa’s office.

The King, who was pouring them some tea, peacefully nodded his head. “Yes. Does that bother you?”

“Bother? I don’t know,” she admitted, slipping on her bathrobe (it might have once belonged to T’challa, as proven by the fact that it was too big for her, but she had appropriated it and he never asked for it back). “It’s difficult to make a sound opinion after that disaster a year ago. I tried to inform myself outside of the mass media because those were definitely unreliable on that front, but I’m pretty sure I’m still missing some details. Still, I know one thing: those superheroes are trouble, and I wasn’t expecting you to invite them in your country, considering how protective you’re of Wakanda and… what happened with the delegation in Lagos, or your father...”

T’challa smiled softly to her as he offered her a cup (with one sugar; he knew her well). “Our first priority might be to get you up to date on what you don’t know then. I shall do my best to answer your questions.”

Lighting up, Darcy grinned. “Really?! Oh, you’re going to regret that! I have so many questions for you, your Highness!”

He chuckled and went to sit down on the couch. His girlfriend snuggled against his side a few seconds later. He caressed her bare knee distractedly as they talked of the true events around the Sokovia Accords. T’challa had to explain to her most of Helmut Zemo’s actions and motivations. It was a relief to be able to do so without the hate and pain he had first been overwhelmed with at his father’s death. Now, apart from the grief which will always be present as he remembered his father, this part of his life felt like a learning experience, a taste of his new mantle but mostly a waste of lives.

Darcy seemed to feel the same. “What kind of twisted revenge is that?” She murmured, staring into space as she contemplated Zemo’s plans. She sipped her tea, frowning, before looking back at him. “Even knowing all that, I’m not sure what to think of the Avengers fighting each other like a bunch of mobsters. And the Winter Soldier is here, in stasis, for real?”

“Bucky Barnes is here, yes. As a victim, he deserves peace.”

Darcy pursed her lips, clearly having mixed feelings on the subject. “From a certain point of view, yes, I suppose.”

“You don’t believe so?”

“No, no, you’re right, of course. He has been manipulated, brainwashed and used as a scapegoat, the poor guy certainly deserves a break. Being in stasis must be peaceful in comparison. It’s just… all this mess they left behind, you know?” She put down her cup on the coffee table and snuggled closer to him, her chin resting on his shoulder. “And you have put your country at risk by helping those fugitives. Why? Because you sympathize with Barnes?”

“Partly, yes,” he replied, staring at the statue of a panther in a corner. “And because it felt like the right thing to do. I believe that the world will need them, sooner or later. We need them free and ready to fight.”

She hummed in understanding and agreement. “But it’s risky.”

“There are risks worth taking,” he replied, looking her in the eye.

His meaning couldn’t be misconstrued. She blushed slowly, her lashes fluttering and darkening her lovely eyes. “How do you know which are worth it?”

“When it feels right,” he replied, leaning over to catch her lips.

She hummed against his lips and let him drag her across his lap… or would have if T’challa’s hold around her waist didn’t make her hiss in pain. He immediately let go, alarmed, and pulled on the bathrobe belt to see her bare skin. The shallow but long gash he discovered reminded him of how she had been hurt. He frowned at her.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she grumbled. “I didn’t even notice that the bandage fell when I transformed. It doesn’t hurt… unless you touch it, that is.” Considering the pressure applied by T’challa’s strong hands, right now it was definitely painful.

T’challa made sure she was comfortable on the couch before going to find a first aid kit in his bathroom.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” she asked at his back, raising her voice to be heard through the rooms.

“About what?”

“About me being hurt? I was expecting a big speech about putting myself in danger and getting hurt and all that.”

“It would be rather pointless considering that you didn’t intervene entirely of your own volition, did you?”

Darcy shifted in a better position for her injury. “Yeah, no, that was still one of those weird trances where I didn’t have the control of my own body. As annoying as they are, I’m not sorry for leaving the palace.”

“I don’t expect you to be.”

“Really?” she insisted.

“Really,” he replied calmly. “You transform into a panther, Darcy, not a cat. It’s not my intention to keep you shut in like a pet. Even if I would like to keep you out of danger, I’m aware that’s wishful thinking and I won’t berate you for getting hurt. The pain is already reminder enough of the danger you put yourself in.” He reappeared with the kit.

Darcy pulled on his sleeve as soon as he was in reach and craned her neck to kiss him. “You’re the best.”

He rubbed her chin lovingly as he adjusted the angle of their kiss and stroked her cheek before sitting down. “Show me.”

“If Okoye walks in, she’s going to kill me. I’m naked, remember?”

“I shall be able to protect you from her wrath,” he teased her, “but if it makes you feel better, let’s move to my bedroom.”

Darcy followed him in his private apartment and settled on the bed. She modestly tuck the fabric between her thighs but let the bathrobe fall from her shoulders, baring her chest.

T’challa sat by her side and leaned over to kiss her shoulder, relishing the shiver it produced. He kissed her cheek next, knowing she was still shy about being nude in front of him outside of sex. He talked to distract her while he took care of her injury: “What of your night? Did you see Bast?”

“Oh, yes!” Remembering her dream, she eagerly related the whole experience to him, using her hands to describe how the god had appeared in their different forms. “... In the end, I’m not sure I learnt anything new, except that you and your uncle were right, and that I have some kind of ‘mission’. I mean, the bit about having the heart of a panther and embracing it was nebulous.”

T’challa hummed to show he was listening as he adjusted the dressing over her injury. In all honesty, he was rather focused on the idea that Bast approved of his foreign policy and clearly gave him their blessing and protection. The idea was heady and an honest relief. He was on the right track. If he had had any doubts, they disappeared with this confirmation. A caress on his cheek distracted him, and he looked up to Darcy.

She smiled at him tenderly. “I suppose that there are worse missions than protecting you, your Highness.”

He caught her hand and kissed it. “It seems to me that you might be free as soon as the isolationists are dealt with. They’re my first priority right now. They will be identified and stopped, I promise.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

The question was: how much time would it take?

Knowing the suspense bothered her, T’challa chose to thoroughly distract her. Watchful of her injury, he laid her down over the sheets and lovingly devoured her.

 

*

 

_“T’challa.”_

The King briefly looked up from his work and gestured for his sister to come forward.

Shuri looked around before asking: _“No Darcy?”_

 _“She’s with Dr. Foster,”_ he replied distractedly.

_“Good. So. When did you plan to tell me that you two were together?”_

_“Never.”_

_“What?”_ she sputtered.

T’challa finally looked up, amused. _“I was waiting for you to figure it out. Did Okoye tell you or did you find out yourself?”_

Shuri scowled at him and huffed. _“I had a doubt, and Okoye confirmed it. She does not approve by the way.”_

_“Her approval of my private life isn’t necessary.”_

_“What about mine?”_

He watched her warily. _“It would be appreciated,”_ he admitted.

She smirked at him and threw herself on the chair facing his desk. _“Oh, my opinion matters! What an honor!”_

 _“Shuri,”_ he sighed.

 _“Oh, let me gloat once in awhile, dear brother of mine. You’re so independent that I have to savor those few instances.”_ She leaned her elbows on the desk. _“She’s aware that she can’t be queen, right?”_

 _“Yes,”_ he replied tersely.

_“Is it a problem?”_

_“No. She isn’t interested in being queen. When it comes up, she’s just hurt by the reminder of the time limitation on our relationship.”_

Shuri nodded in understanding _. “She likes you. The 'you you' I mean, not the 'King you'. That’s good. A point for her. What about you?”_

T’challa sighed and leaned back in his seat, giving up all pretense of working. _“Do you think I’d enter such a relationship if it wasn’t worth it?”_

 _“So, you’re head over heels in love with her,”_ she translated with a smirk, unbothered by the glare he sent her way. _“Aww, my serious and responsible big brother is in love and not sacrificing his happiness for the country. Incredible. I’m proud of you.”_ He raised an eyebrow at her. She shrugged. _“I’m serious. It’s a good reminder that you’re human. Just for this, I like the girl, even if I barely spoke to her.”_ A wicked smirk tugged at her lips. T’challa prepared for the worst. _“So, do you do kinky furry stuff?”_

T’challa groaned loudly and facepalmed. Only his little sister would dare. She burst into laughter, and he shook his head.

 _“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say a word.”_ He gestured at her tablet. _“Did you find anything about the sniper and his associates?”_

Perfectly serious and professional again, Shuri nodded. _“Yes, here is what we have...”_

T’challa listened intently to her briefing.

_“So… Bast Days?”_

_“Yep,”_ she confirmed before smirking. _“Any celebration planned with your girl? You know the night ones will fit perfectly if you’re not into furry... ”_ She avoided a pen thrown at her and giggled as she fled. _“Just saying!”_

 

*

 

Two weeks after Darcy had met Bast in her dreams, she participated in Bast Days. It was an unique opportunity: for security reasons, none of the other foreigners had been invited to join in the celebrations. Darcy, safe in her panther shape, could witness everything. She stayed by T’challa’s side, of course, as his silent shadow that everyone respectfully let through no matter how crowded the streets were.

T’challa always kept an eye or a hand on her.

If Darcy was in human shape, she’d have kept _both_ hands on him: he was… yummy. That was the best word to describe him. He was wearing the traditional clothes of the Black Panther, which apparently meant being shirtless (Darcy didn’t complain) with a wide necklace of vibranium claws and black pants.

Although he made sure to appear to several events, T’challa’s presence wasn’t obligatory for any of it. The celebrations were rather freely organized, no religious ceremonies or complex commemorations, not today at least. T’challa had appeared on national TV this morning, wished his people a great holiday and that was it. Everyone had fun and organized their own parties. There was music and dance in every free space, food at every corner, and Bast’s representations on the windowsills.

Darcy’s sensitive nose was distracted by a lot of different smells. There was food, of course, but also a lot of perfume, which reminded her of what she read about Bast being called the ‘perfumed protector’. Fortunately, the perfumes seemed to be rather traditional because they were often similar. Otherwise, it would have ended up as an headache for her.

There was also a lot of alcohol drinking involved, but T’challa barely sipped the glasses offered to him.

 

After wandering the streets of the capital in the morning, they settled down in The Royal Theater for the afternoon. That’s where the most famous artists of Wakanda performed, and T’challa had a reserved seat right in the middle of the tiers.

It was a good seat, low, wide and comfortable with lots of pillows around for Darcy to lounge on. When she was bored, she even managed to fit on T’challa’s lap by curling up a little, her tail overflowing on Shuri’s lap. The princess didn’t seem to mind, stroking her fur distractedly and playing with it when boredom caught her too. As for T’challa, he was lounging and looked regal, even while supporting the weight of a panther pretending to be a lap cat.

Many important people came to pay their respects and talk to the King. They came from the provinces for the special occasion. Most of them looked at Tana the panther in awe, the strong hand stroking her back reminding them whom had Bast’s blessing.

Of the procession, Darcy only remembered three people.

First, there was a beautiful woman whom T’challa called Lulit. He seemed to be familiar with her, and they were friendly. She came from an important tribe who lived on the countryside, and she worked for some big organization. Darcy didn’t manage to understand for what in particular: she was improving in Wakandan but just enough to follow a basic conversation. Lulit was noteworthy, because she was extremely elegant but most of all because she treated Tana the panther like an intelligent being. Everyone was respectful of Tana, but they still viewed her like a pet, even if she was a divine pet. Lulit looked her in the eye (no-one ever did, like it was a big no-no or an invitation to eat them… which might be the case for a true predator, admittedly) and bowed her head. It was weird. Curious, Tana waved a paw in her direction, trying to catch her very pretty white dress lined with gold and blue. T’challa caught her paw and scolded her gently, which was totally unfair: she wouldn’t have ruined the dress! … She just wanted a piece of it.

Second, there was a girl of about eighteen months old. The shy kind, who hid behind her father’s legs while the adults talked of boring things and stared at Tana like she was the eighth Wonder of the World. Used to this by now, Darcy watched her from the corner of her eyes but mostly dozed. As often happened with children, the girl was distracted by something else, a dancer walking down the stairs with all her colorful clothes and jewels. Entranced by the sight, the girl went after the dancer (it probably seemed a safer choice than trying to pet the panther, at least the girl had _some_ good sense), scampering away without her father noticing until she tripped and fell down on the first step.

To her credit, she didn’t bawled loudly but sobbed silently, her shoulders shaking repeatedly. The father hadn’t noticed. With a put upon sigh, Darcy left her pillow pile and walked to the stairs, immediately getting the attention of everyone around. She caught the little girl by the back of her dress (and if her fangs damaged it, too bad, the father could afford another one) and hauled her up. Once she had her feet under her, the girl blinked her big teary eyes at her, still sniffling. Darcy nuzzled her face and licked her cheeks. It got a giggle from the child, who tried to pat her muzzle to make her stop. The father finally appeared to take care of his daughter, thanking Tana. Everyone stared at her swinging her tail in answer to the child waving her hand in goodbye. Darcy walked back to T’challa. She ignored him when he commented in a murmur that everyone was going to consider the child blessed thanks to her. Whatever.

Third, there was a man (surrounded by many others as it often was). An important looking one that T’challa called Getachew. As soon as he stopped in front of T’challa, Darcy sneezed. Too much perfume (it wasn’t the first time). The man had the gall to purse his lips at her! As if she wasn’t going to notice. Just for that, when she sneezed again she made sure to do it in his direction. She caught sight of Shuri trying to hold back her amusement as she did so and felt self-satisfied, no matter what T’challa’s hand on her head was trying to tell her. From what Darcy could understand of their conversation, they didn’t like each other, although they were very good with basic courtesy… and criticizing each other politely. The exciting world of politics.

Between all this, Darcy mostly listened to the music. She would have gladly watched the dances too but most often she was too low to see the scene. The festive rhythms were lively, and she would have gladly danced if she could have done it without looking like a possessed creature. It led her to move her tail instead of her feet, sometimes slapping someone inadvertently (or deliberately, in Getachew’s case).

When she didn’t like someone, she also had fun trying to pretend she was going to pounce on them: crouching on her hindquarters with her forelegs stretched in front of her. T’challa pretended to give her reproving looks, but he was smirking or trying to avoid doing so.

It was fun to mess with people and getting away with it just because she was supposed to be a simple pet! Better to find enjoyment in her situation rather than whining about what she couldn’t do, after all.

She had been extremely excited to participate in Bast Days, but in the end it was disappointing. Oh, of course, discovering the culture was very nice, but all she did was witness some of it rather than being part of it. She barely understood most of what was going on around her since everyone obviously spoke in their native tongue and she wasn’t fluent enough in it.

T’challa was too distracted to really pay attention to her, only speaking in English when she insistently bumped her head against him in a clear demand for an explanation. By the end of the day, Darcy had given up trying to keep up.

When Shuri stared at her phone intensely and whispered to T’challa that something _“was going as planned”_ , Darcy barely twitched. She was daydreaming about dancing cats. It was much more fascinating than affairs of state.

 _Finally_ , Okoye mentioned going back to the palace and Darcy was up instantly, ears perked up and tail swinging. T’challa noticed it, and a spark of guilt made him wince. He rubbed her neck and kissed her between the eyes to show his remorse. “Let’s go home, _ikatana_ ,” he murmured.

Eager to move, Darcy led the way out with Okoye. Unfortunately, some people persisted in delaying them. Darcy clawed at the floor to avoid roaring at them. This was worse than being cooped up inside the palace. At least she could have some peace there!

T’challa was taking leave of Lulit and her father. For the third time that evening, someone asked the King if he was celebrating with someone tonight. By now, Darcy had caught the innuendos, and she was getting tired of it. She circled around T’challa’s feet and bumped in his legs, nudging him forward impatiently.

 _“Tana is a possessive and impatient mistress,”_ the King replied with the same humor his interlocutor had used.

That made them laugh, and they finally managed to leave.

 

*

 

T’challa removed his traditional necklace and carefully put it away before coming back to his bedroom. Darcy was curled up on the bed, naked in human form (they had arrived only a few minutes before sunset, which was probably why she didn’t just run away to stretch her legs), lounging under the sheets in the middle of pillows, and ignoring him just like she did since they left the theater. Shuri calling it sulking had just made matters worse.

“Darcy,” he murmured, crawling on the bed and hovering above her. “Beloved, talk to me.”

She groaned and curled up tighter, her face concealed by her hair.

He gently pushed away the brown strands and leaned down to kiss her cheek. “ _Ikatana_ , what’s wrong?”

“Just tired,” she grumbled, “I’m gonna sleep.”

Brushing her hair softly, T’challa settled behind her. “Darcy, if something in particular upset you, please tell me so.”

“No,” she sighed, “just… the fact that I’m a panther unable to do anything or even understand the language of the country I’m stuck in… you know, the usual. I just feel useless, and this day was far too long.”

T’challa adjusted his position to spoon her, gently convincing her to lean back into his touch. He kissed her behind the ear and said in Wakandan: _“You’re getting better and better at understanding our language, ikatana. You’re doing well. Don’t be so harsh with yourself. I’m sorry if you felt neglected today.”_

“What was that word? Before ‘today’?”

“Neglected,” he translated. “I’m sorry I didn’t take the time to make sure you were alright.”

She shrugged. “That’s fine. You were busy. You’re the King, I get that. It’s just… they always invited you to participate in the celebrations, but you never did. Was it because of me?”

“No, I would have refused either way. As King, I have to stay rather neutral for the first day. Tomorrow, I’ll participate in the religious ceremony and some of the traditional performances.”

She tilted her head back. “What about tonight?”

He smiled and nuzzled her ear. “Tonight is private.”

She snorted. “You mean it’s the sexual kind of celebration.”

“Yes,” he confirmed before kissing her hair. “The kind where I give you _all_ of my attention."

“Really?”

“If you’re not too tired, of course,” he teased her.

“I don’t know. Are those celebrations supposed to be... athletic?” She asked with a small smile and a playful tone.

“Athletic, no… vigorous would be more appropriate.”

She snickered when he stroked her belly with his thumb and she rolled on her side to face him. She grabbed his hand and pulled on it. “Come on then, your highness, introduce me to your… vigorous celebrations.”

He snorted. “I’m already regretting using that word.”

She laughed at him and nudged him with her foot. It evolved in a pillow fight until the King finally managed to tame and subdue his panther.

Restraining her hands above her head with one hand around her wrists, T’challa lied over her, kissing her _vigorously_.

There was a knock at the door.

Darcy groaned in aggravation and threw her head back against the mattress, sighing.

T’challa bit back a curse. _“What is it?”_ he shouted to the door.

 _“The bust was a success, T’challa. We have them,”_ Shuri replied.

Leaning over Darcy on his elbows, T’challa frowned. _“No trouble? You don’t need me?”_

There were a few seconds before he heard a distant snort, and Shuri replied with amusement: _“I have everything well in hand, brother. Just like you do, it seems. Sorry to have bothered you. Good celebration to you two!”_

“What was that about?” Darcy asked as they heard Shuri’s footsteps fade.

“Nothing that can’t wait tomorrow. This night is for us,” he murmured against her lips, determined to make her enjoy Bast Day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not convinced by this chapter, apart from Shuri's scenes. It's necessary for what follows though, so bear with me.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rises from the ashes*  
> Fourteen months later... as the Black Panther movie comes out, I finally convinced myself to finish this. I had the end of the story planned, but motivation and inspiration failed me during all this time. It didn't really come back (I moved on from Darcyland, I don't know if I'll be back but not right now), but I realized that if I didn't finish this before seeing the movie, I never would. The Black Panther movie will inevitably change my view of Wakanda and of the characters, so this was now or never, and I couldn't bear to let this unfinished when I had everything planned and when so many of you still regularly give this kudos and comments hoping for an ending (thanks a lot ♥).  
> So here it is: what should have been written in at least three chapters condensed in one to give this story a proper ending.

For the last Bast Day, Darcy stayed with Jane. 

The scientific facilities were closed, just like the rest of Wakanda, which forced the astrophysicist to rest for once. However, rest was an unfamiliar word for Jane, and she needed company to save her from boredom.

Meanwhile, T’challa had more duties to deal with. Darcy and he had agreed that accompanying him would be useless and tiresome for her. He had to preside over the religious ceremony and take part in traditional performances, all of which would be broadcasted on national television.

That’s what Jane and Darcy were currently watching while lounging in the scientist’s room. They didn’t understand most of what was said, but the proceedings were fascinating for their novelty. They were probably some of the rare foreigners to witness celebrations of the Black Panther elite. 

“This would be an excellent subject of thesis for you,” Jane pointed out as she trimmed her nails. “So little is known about the politics of Wakanda, that any paper about it would draw attention.”

Darcy snorted and tilted her head sceptically.

“ Yes, of course, they would never allow it,” Jane agreed. “It was an abstract thought. Still, you’re in an unique position… I’m not referring to your transformation here, but about the unique experience you gained in Wakanda. It would be quite a significant event to put on a resume and open many doors to you if…  _ when  _ you choose to find a better position… a  _ paid  _ one.”

Darcy shifted until her front legs were spread out over Jane’s back. The scientist huffed, hiding her fondness behind a roll of her eyes.

“We won’t be able to continue like this indefinitely, Darcy, and you know it.”

The panther tried to gnaw at her ear. Jane pulled back.

“Alright, alright, I get it! We’ll talk about it later… when you’re able to speak,” she grumbled. “Just… think about it.”

Darcy rolled away and tucked her head between her paws. She didn’t want to think about it, though. She didn’t want to think about the future, knowing that she would be away from T’challa. The idea that she wouldn’t have Jane either was more than she could bear right now. She was determined to focus on the present only, to enjoy what she had for as long as she could. 

Not that she didn’t agree with Jane: living in Wakanda was indeed a chance for her. Learning their language alone was a specific opportunity that could open many doors to her. It wasn’t taught anywhere else in the world, so she wouldn’t have much competition if she wanted to become a translator. Some people would pay a lot to learn more about the secluded country. Unfortunately for them, Darcy was developing a loyalty to the King which would prevail over the lure of money, even if all of this ended in heartbreak. T’challa trusted her, with himself and his country. She would never betray that trust. 

Wistful, Darcy stared at the television’s projection distractedly, until T’challa appeared, wearing black shorts only. He seemed to be preparing for a fight. She perked up with interest. 

T’challa’s opponent was in the same state of undress. It was Getachew, the man which Darcy had met the day before during the celebrations at the theater. He was older than T’challa by at least fifteen years, but still in fighting condition, despite a slight paunch. He looked angry and a little afraid, although he hid it well and it was just good sense to be scared of facing the Black Panther. 

The TV presenter was talking about Bast’s trials. From what Darcy and Jane understood, they were traditional fights where Wakandan leaders proved their worth against each other. 

Somehow, this fight in particular looked much more personal and significant than a simple spar for honor and glory.

T’challa certainly meant business: he was ruthless, hitting Getachew until he could barely stand, dodging his counterattacks with an ease which he didn’t bother to downplay. In less than one minute, Getachew was on his knees, head down. 

Breathing deeply, T’challa waited for him to stand up. When that didn’t happen, a referee announced his victory, causing a round of deafening applause. 

Darcy waved her tail in approval. Her boyfriend looked extremely sexy and majestic as he saluted the crowd with a regal nod, his torso glistening under the sunlight.

The ovation quieted down when T’challa stepped forward and spoke to his opponent. The conversation that followed looked solemn, but Getachew didn’t hide his distaste for the king.

Jane and Darcy turned toward each other when the television move on to another fight. 

“Did he just…?” Jane said.

Darcy growled in approval, a bit shocked as well.

Getachew had just admitted being behind the attacks on foreigners these last months. He had confessed and being dragged away by several Dora Milaje.

… Did this mean that it was over?

There was no more danger. 

Darcy didn’t need to be a panther anymore. 

She should have been overjoyed, but her heart sank in her chest. She held back a whine of distress as she realized that things would accelerate, and her idyll  time would be over far sooner than she had hope for. She jumped on her paws and left Jane’s room, ignoring her call. She needed to run, to flee her thoughts, her fears.

Subconsciously, she went back to the waterfall T’challa had shown her sometime before. As she remembered their time spent there together, her heart grew heavier. She wet a paw tentatively before recoiling.

Damn it. She had fallen hard. Love wasn’t supposed to be so intense for her. She wasn’t familiar with heartbreak. She had had boyfriends, the relationships had ended, and she had moved on. Why would this be so much harder? Why did the mere idea of losing T’challa make her want to compete with the waterfall to form a river of tears? 

Frustrated, she jumped in the pond to drown her sorrows. 

She would be strong. She had told T’challa she would be fine when their relationship ended. She wasn’t going to make it harder for him by breaking her word.

She was strong, independant and free. She would be fine!

She had gone through much worse. She was resilient and always ready for the next challenge.

Yes, she was. She would be fine!

Emerging from the water to take a deep breath, Darcy pushed back her long hair from her face and stared at her human hands.

So, that was it… She was back to normal… back to her previous life.

Alright. 

She could do this. For love.

  


*** Nine years later - Lisbon, Portugal ***

  


“ _The King and Queen of Wakanda arrived in Lisbon for the celebrations of the fifth anniversary of the IDO. After some troubled years, the International Defense Organization has established itself as the first line of defense for Earth and as an excellent example of international cooperation and inhumans integration. Led by Steve Rogers, former Captain America, the IDO was a proposal of King T’challa and received Wakanda’s backings from the get-go…”_

“Television: mute,” Darcy called without looking up from her paperwork.

Silence settled in the office while the newscaster was replaced by the image of Wakanda’s royalty greeting a crowd at the airport. Darcy didn’t look. She already knew enough. T’challa looked as fantastic as ever in a black suit, barely aging, while his gorgeous wife was radiant in white, unchanged by her three pregnancies, the last one barely a year old.

She knew all of this, because she had been one of the first to know they had landed in Lisbon; the one to inform Steve Rogers that his old friend was on schedule and would be here for dinner as planned.

Beyond her glass door, the Public Relations department of IDO was in an uproar, chatting about the royals like the gossip they were. For any other celebrity, Darcy would have been among them… no, to be more exact, she would have been the representative sent to welcome the King. She was one of IDO’s specialists on Wakanda and Steve Rogers’ trusted confident after all. However, the honor of guiding the royals was granted to her co-worker’s: Abeba. This was for the best… for everyone. 

Her personal phone vibrated on her desk. Darcy lazily took a look, less reactive than if it had been a professional call. 

Jane had sent her a text:  “ _ Are you going to talk to him?” _

Darcy was going to ignore it when another came:

“ _ Stupid question. Of course you won’t. Fine. Don’t send flowers to the Queen.” _

Once. Darcy had done it once seven years ago, and Jane never let her forget it. So what if she knew that the Queen was allergic to pollen and Darcy had filled a reception hall with flowers, just in spite? It had been the anniversary of the day Darcy had left Wakanda. She was in a bad mood! … She didn’t even felt guilty when the royals had had to leave after an hour and her boss had been verging on a stroke at their ‘mistake’ (he had been an asshole anyway). 

Leaning back in her chair, she crossed her legs and glared at the television showing the royal car making his way through Lisbon’s streets. “Whatever,” she mumbled. “I’m over it.”

A cramp made her look at her hand and she winced, shaking her fingers tipped with claws. “Oh, shut up,” she grumbled. “This is all your fault, Bast.”

Expecting to see the claws disappear, as always after the Wakandan god reminded her of his omnipresence (it happened once in a while, especially when other godly beings took an interest in her: apparently Bast wasn’t the sharing type), she was surprised to feel her heart speed up and her hands clench. What was going on? She hadn’t felt this way in years. Not since she had last transformed… 

The sensations didn’t go away. Darcy stood up in a hurry, kicking off her shoes and trying to remove her clothes before they got torn. She swore when her hands morphed and she was left unable to unbutton her blouse. 

A few seconds later, she was staring at black paws, growling low in her throat and feeling the remnants of her clothes slip down on the ground.

Damn it. That had been her best suit (just in case she had been  _ forced  _ to meet T’challa). 

Nine years. Nine years of mundane life and peace without any superheroic feat from her. She had helped funding the organization she had talked about with T’challa years ago. She had mixed with superheros on a daily basis. She had weekly lunch with Steve Rogers. She got in danger once or twice when an IDO building had been attacked… And during all this time, she hadn’t transformed once. 

The only thing which changed today was T’challa’s presence. It wasn’t as if it was the first time they were in the same town though. She had never tried to see him, but she had always been around when he came to the IDO. There even was that time when the Black Panther had showed up to help against aliens. He had been thrown in the office, a few meters away from where Darcy had been hiding under a desk. He hadn’t seen her, too focused on the fight, but she had. She had been unable to look away from him, always searching for his dark shape once he had jumped back in the fray.

So what had changed? Well, it was obvious enough. Bast only bothered with her when they needed to borrow her body to intervene in the mortal world.

As she arrived to this conclusion, she felt it, the compulsion to move. She didn’t fight it. She never did, because she knew what this meant : T’challa was in danger.

She slipped away from her office without being seen; her coworkers were too busy gossiping around the television. In the hallway however, a few people stopped, stared, and pressed themselves against the walls. No-one screamed: this was the IDO’s offices, where Groot had once made flowers grow from the pot plants to court Wanda Maximoff, where Natasha Romanoff regularly scared the hell out of everyone, where Spiderman was seen sticking to every surface available on a monthly basis, and so on… If a panther was on the fifteenth floor, chance was that it wasn’t an ordinary one. So, like for everything else: the IDO’s workers got out of the way, stared in awe and took a picture from their professional phones to post it on the private chat nicknamed “ _ What you missed today at the asylum _ ”  (everyone knew about it, even those who pretended not to, like the big boss, Mr Rogers). 

Darcy took the elevator, sitting calmly in the middle of the car until a giant with dark skin (she had met him before, an ex of SHIELD, named Mack if she remembered well) got his voice under control and asked: “Mh… What floor?”

Good man.

Darcy draw a zero with her paw. 

“Ground floor?” 

She nodded, her tail wagging slowly in approval.

“You got it,” he murmured before saying louder: “Elevator: ground floor.” He grabbed the hand of the other person present with them. “Don’t.”

“But, Mack…” the woman whined.

“For God’s sake, don’t touch the big cat and its sharp claws, Daisy,” he sighed. 

If there wasn’t this impatient compulsion taking most of her attention, Darcy would have reacted to this, somehow, but she felt like time was running out. As soon as they reached the ground floor, she dashed through the lobby, ignoring the shouts of surprise and recoiling bodies.

She was out of the front door in time to see the car marked with Wakandan flags stop in the alleyway. Okoye came out first, followed by T’challa and then the Queen. Steve stepped forward to welcome them.

Darcy slalomed past them, rushing between legs, causing shouts of fear to rise behind her. From the corner of her eyes, she saw the Dora Milaje surrounding the royals protectively, but her focus was elsewhere. She jumped on the roof of the car, giving everyone around a brief view of the ‘danger’ in their midst, before she jumped on the other side, pouncing on a small moving object, so discreet that it would have been unnoticed otherwise. Darcy could feel it move between her paws, trying to escape her grip. She was tempted to crush it, but she knew instinctively that it was dangerous to do so.

Wagging her tail excitedly, she peeked at the small robot. It looked like a beetle, with an abdomen slightly larger than usual. As it failed to get away, it started to buzz and gave her an electric shock. She hissed and pulled away briefly before swatting at it repetitively when it tried to flee. With her claws out, she got it on its back before cutting precisely at the tender parts. Neutralized, it stopped moving. 

Satisfied, Darcy looked up, and finally noticed she was the center of attention of the Wakandan delegation and IDO representatives. 

“Well, hi,” she thought. “This is not embarassing at all.” Remembering her old habits of going with the flow and taking advantage of her feline form’s cuteness, she sat on her haunches and wagged her tail, imitating a big cat pleased with their catch. Nothing to see here, people, just playing with an assassination robot, that’s all. 

She met T’challa’s eyes, but only saw the royal impassiveness he had mastered for any public situation. It reminded her of her place — away from him — and she jumped back on the car, fleeing the spotlight.

  


*

  


“Darcy! Where were you? You missed— Why are you dressed like that?”

“ Oh, you know, clumsy me: I poured some coffee on myself and had to borrow some clothes.” Darcy tugged at her waistband distractedly. Natasha had been helpful, only judging her  _ silently  _ when she found her naked in the restroom (somehow she knew what happened, Darcy was sure of it, she knew  _ everything _ ), but her clothes were too small. She couldn’t zip the pants (why did everything Natasha own had to be skin-tight?! Thankfully it was also stretchy). At least the trench coat hid anything embarrassing. 

“Uh, okay…”

Before her coworker could remember how excited she was about a panther saving the day, Darcy walked past her and took refuge in her office. She sighed in relief as she sat down.

She had to wait twenty minutes for her transformation to wear off, then half an hour for someone to appear and help her find some clothes. She was ready for this day to be over. She grabbed her purse and got ready to leave. She just had one thing to check...

Preparing herself for the worst, she reached for her phones and checked her messages. On her private one, Jane had sent:  “ _ TV shows a panther at IDO’s headquarters. Darcy, what the fuck?!” _

Those three words could sum up her life.

On her professional phone, she had a missed call and a message from Steve:  “ _ T’challa wants to see you.” _

Not a chance. She replied with:  “ _ How unfortunate. I’m on my way to Hawaii to see Jane.”  _ That was a really good idea actually. Jane went to the most wonderful places now that her reputation allowed her to access the best telescopes. 

“ _ I’m not covering for you,”  _ Steve replied immediately. “ _ Anyway, it’s too late,”  _ he added ten seconds later.

Darcy was out of her chair in a moment, and past her coworkers before they could hope to stop her. Her clothes might be uncomfortable (the shoes were nice at least, Natasha had good taste in ankle boots), but she still had the heart of a panther (or whatever Bast liked to call it) and she would not get caught!

She reached the elevators with a speeding heart and the taste of triumph on the tip of her tongue, pressing the button repeatedly. She checked over her shoulders that no-one was following and froze. A Dora Milaje was staring at her from the other end of the hallway, motionless but focused. Triumph disappeared and dread replaced it. When those women had their eye on someone, it was hard to escape. 

The elevator announced its arrival with a ting. 

Darcy turned around and groaned in resignation as T’challa and Okoye were revealed by the opening doors. She raised her eyes to the ceiling. Of course. What was she thinking? Getting away from the Wakandan? In her dreams.

Okoye stepped out silently and invited her to take her place with a hand gesture and a raised eyebrow.

“ _ Hi Okoye, nice to see you too. How do you do?”  _ Darcy snarked in Wakandan as she complied, standing on T’challa’s left side and turning to face the exit pointedly.

Okoye’s stare was as judgemental as ever while the door closed, leaving T’challa and Darcy alone, in a tense silence.  

They hadn’t talked since Darcy had left Wakanda, only exchanging short letters: “Congratulations for the kids” in her case, “Congratulations for the promotion” in his. It was all really proper… well, notwithstanding the cat puns which she had used in her cards… and the fact that he had retaliated similarly.

T’challa removed a hand-size device from his pocket and stuck it to the elevator’s panel. The engine stopped and the light went off. Fortunately, one wall was made from glass, otherwise Darcy wouldn’t have appreciated this claustrophobic trap. Nonetheless, she sent him an unimpressed glance.

“Really? The ‘broken-down’ trick?” she joked. “You can do better than that.”

He smirked in answer, and the tension lightened. 

“It’s good to see you,” he murmured.

She cleared her throat and redirected her eyes to the door. “I’d say the same but I can watch TV anytime I want to see your pretty face.”

He chuckled and leaned closer. “You haven’t changed.”

“Well, _you_ are getting white hair.”

“And you have refused a promotion,” he commented with grace and nonchalance.

She shifted her weight from one foot to another. “I did.” A sudden doubt got to her. She frowned and met his eyes. “Did I get this offer because of you?”

“No,” he denied calmly, “but I’d like you to take it.”

“How is that a good idea? As liaison between IDO and Wakanda in your capital, I’d have to see you weekly, if not daily. I can’t do that and not spontaneously combust from jealousy and frustration.” She poked at his chest to show her earnestness. If he thought she was over him, he was highly mistaken!

He caught her wrist and gently held it out over his heart. “Darcy, you know that Lulit and I have a political marriage. We care for each other, but it’s not… passionate,” he explained. “We agreed not to lay together anymore after our third child...”

“What are you saying?” she interrupted. “That I can be your mistress? Your wife gave you permission?”

He tilted his head in silent agreement and simply added: “You know I’d give you more if I could.”

He was so earnest. She couldn’t fault him for trying to do his best, for his country and himself. However, was it truly the best for her? Well, knowing that, nine years later, despite a few affairs, she was still hung up on him, so much so that she wanted to kiss him right here and now, and that a promotion was waiting for her in Wakanda… the answer was rather obvious.

“I want Jane to be able to come see me whenever she wants.”

He straightened a little and his eyes brightened. “Granted.”

Well, since he was obliging… “And a balcony with a view on the lake.”

He nodded. “That can be arranged.”

Now, he was asking for it. She smirked. “Also, a pool and a home cinema. Oh, and a waterfall.”

He smiled back, eyes twinkling in delight. “You can use those in the palace whenever you want.”

She squealed and threw herself in his arms, hanging from his shoulders as he cradled her, his cheek against hers. “You can’t take it back!”

“Never,” he whispered in her ear, his lips brushing the sensitive skin, his voice soothing her frayed nerves and her aching heart. 

She would have to start over in Wakanda, but this would be the beginning of something great.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [dntpanic42](https://dntpanic42.tumblr.com/) for editing this chapter, answering to my call for a beta even more than a year later. ♥
> 
> I hope this ending will satisfy you, even if it's so rushed. Thank you for following me in this adventure to the end. =) If you want to keep in touch, you can find me on tumblr: [lunaemoth.tumblr.com](https://lunaemoth.tumblr.com/)


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